The Easy Way Out
by Stephaniiie
Summary: Sequel to The Hard Way to Learn a Lesson but you don't have to read that one first! AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

**Note: You don't have to read or re-read The Hard Way to Learn a Lesson to understand this story. I will put a brief summary of what happened in THWTLAL below.**

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 **Author's note to readers old and new:**

 _Hi! I know I said I would never do a sequel to THWATLAL seven (!) years ago but… well, never say never. I have been thinking about that fic a lot recently and now that I'm old, cynical and married myself, I'm not so sure that THWTLAL would have been the end of the line for these guys. No one has a baby at 17/18 without there being more to the story afterwards. So, since I'm having awful writer's block with my original writing, I thought I'd have a dabble and I found that THWTLAL Bella and Edward still have a lot to say and an intriguing story to tell._

 _I'm not sure if anyone's still reading Twilight fanfics but way back when I wrote these stories at the tender age of 15/16, writing was my life. I want to get back in that mind frame and fall in love with writing again so I'm posting it here, hoping to get that spark back._

 _I hope that you like it and if there's anyone still out there in the Twific void, please say hi. I really hope life's treating you all well after all this time and I'd love to hear from you._

 _Also, I promise this will be the only long A/N. Nothing embarrasses me more than reading back my old A/Ns!_

 _-Steph xo_

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 **EDIT 16/01/17 - Sorry to break my promise already about the A/Ns but I need to add a quick note of reassurance. I only write happily ever afters! I cannot stress this enough. If it's not your cup of tea, that's fine but please know that there is, as usual, more to the story than meets the eye.**

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 **Summary of The Hard Way To Learn A Lesson and subsequent outtakes:**

In their penultimate year of high school (Junior year), good girl Bella and bad boy Edward were paired in a Psychology project. During this project they had to pretend to be married by living together and enduring life as a 'married' couple. In these few weeks, Bella and Edward overcame their mutual hatred for each other and eventually fell in love. Shortly after the project ended, Bella fell pregnant with Edward's child. They decided to keep the baby and the original story ended with Bella going into labour aged 18.

In outtakes set after the story, we discover that Bella gave birth to a boy, Ethan. Another outtake set 3 years after Ethan's birth showed that Bella and Edward had gotten married and Edward had joined Forks police force with Charlie after graduation to provide for his family while Bella studied a college degree from home. This is when Bella fell pregnant with their second child (although it turns out they are expecting twins) and they lived happily ever after – until now.

 **This story is set 9 years after The Hard Way to Learn a Lesson and 6 years after the most recent outtake.**

Enjoy! XO

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 **Chapter 1**

 **Edward POV**

When I reach our front door, I pause and take a deep breath. I'm exhausted, having worked a double shift today, including the drawn-out process of cordoning off the scene of a gruesome road traffic accident. But I don't want the kids to see the fatigue written all over my face so I take a moment to force a smile that seems somewhat genuine before putting in my key and unlocking the door.

As soon as I close the door behind me and hang up my hat and jacket, I can hear the pitter patter of frantic feet running through the kitchen to meet me.

"Daddy, Daddy!" Sophie's excitable shriek reaches me before she does but it's only seconds later that her little body comes careering round the corner and crashing into me. She hugs my legs tightly as she talks at a million miles a minute. "We're trying on clothes to wear tomorrow, do you like this one, Daddy, do you? It's such a pretty t-shirt and it's pink and it _sparkles_! Gosh, Daddy, I _love_ glitter!"

I grin despite myself. "Slow down, Soph, let me look at you."

She proudly steps back and shows off her outfit. She's wearing jeans and a pink top emblazoned with Frozen characters and covered in pink glitter. This would be fine were it not for the equally glittery tutu she wears over the top, the jewelled tiara on her head and the fairy wand glowing in her hand.

"I think," I say, kicking my shoes off, "that maybe the outfit would look better without the tutu?"

She scowls at me, her pale green eyes screwing up in fury as she sticks her chin out. "No, I like the tutu."

"It's lovely, darling, but maybe a bit much for your very first day of kindergarten. Why don't we save the tutu for your birthday party?"

Sophie ponders my suggestion before nodding slowly. "Yes, maybe. I do have to look the prettiest at my party because I'll be the birthday girl." At that, she turns to head back to the living room.

"It's Freddie's party too!" I call after her but my whirlwind of a daughter has already disappeared in a cloud of glitter.

Her dark hair, beautiful smile and cute button nose may prove that she's Bella's daughter but, by God, the two are nothing alike. I sigh as this thought assaults me and causes my heart to pang painfully in my chest. I push my wife's image out of my mind and venture through to the living room after Sophie.

The living room looks as though Sophie's entire wardrobe has exploded in it and I groan internally.

Alice sees me first, tearing her attention from Sophie's monologue about whether she prefers the pink Frozen top or the blue Frozen top. Freddie is perched on her lap sucking his thumb and looking like he's going to fall asleep at any second. It doesn't surprise me as he's always been the more docile twin. Alice smiles but doesn't speak and nudges Freddie on her knee.

When Freddie looks up and sees me his dark, chocolate brown eyes light up and he reaches out to me with both arms. I go over and gather him up in my arms, taking a seat on the couch beside Alice.

"You look exhausted," Alice murmurs.

"I'm fine," I assure her. "Thank you so much."

"For what?" she replies, surprised. "It's really no trouble, Edward. You know I love helping out."

"I know, I know, but it was such late notice and I know you have your own kid to think about and I didn't mean to still be at the station that late and…"

"Edward."

I look up into my sister's pale blue eyes and feel myself instantly relax. "Yes, Alice?"

"It's really fine. That's what aunts are for." She turns back to Sophie, reassuring her that all of her clothes are utterly gorgeous.

"What are you wearing tomorrow, Fred?" I ask my youngest as he snuggles into my chest. "Maybe the pink tutu?"

"Daddy!" he proclaims in disgust. "No way! I'm wearing my p'liceman t-shirt."

"Okay." I had expected as much. A hand-me-down from Ethan, the policeman t-shirt was a child's cotton replica of my own uniform and it was the only item of clothing aside from pyjamas that Freddie would wear without a fight. Unfortunately, we only had the one policeman t-shirt so my littlest child often appeared mucky and smelly until we could sneak the t-shirt away for washing.

"Time to tidy up, Soph," I tell my daughter. She looks as though she's about to start whining so I add, "It's already past your bedtime and you don't want to look tired on your first day of big school, do you?"

She sighs heavily, ever the drama queen, and begins bundling her clothes together. I know I will be folding them properly later.

"Will we have time for a story?" Freddie asks hopefully.

I smile. "I think we'll have time for a quick one."

Once I've herded the twins upstairs and their teeth have been cleaned, their faces scrubbed and their pyjamas donned, they bounce into their twin beds. Well, Sophie bounces and Freddie falls.

"Daddy," Sophie says sweetly, "can we please have the princess story?"

"Again?"

"Yes, it's my favourite."

"Well… okay but Freddie chooses tomorrow then." I go to the bookshelf and pull out the book that's different to all the others. The princess story was a project I gave myself shortly before the twins were born. It was a gift for Bella to show her how grateful I was to her for giving me the best family in the world and it told a child-friendly version of a story we knew only too well.

"Once upon a time," I started reading from the self-published book, "there lived a princess named Isabella. She was the most beautiful princess in all the land and the most kind and patient princess who ever lived. She lived a happy life but a lonely one as she dreamed of the day she would meet her prince."

Sophie sighed contentedly and snuggled down further into her bed. Freddie's eyes were already drooping and I wasn't sure if he'd even make it to the end of the story.

Nonetheless, I continued reading. I told the story of Princess Isabella's testing time when she had to save the fairy kingdom from an evil troll. But of course when she met and grew to know the troll better she realised that he wasn't evil at all. The beautiful princess fell in love with the troll although everyone told her he was evil but when she finally professed her love and kissed the troll he turned into a handsome prince. Princess Isabella showed everyone that the troll was a good person and they were allowed to marry. And they lived happily ever after.

When I turned the last page, the note at the back struck a chord inside me, bringing a lump to my throat. I closed the book without reading it out loud but I'd already seen it. And, besides, I knew it was there because I had written it.

 _Thank you, Bella, for finding the prince hidden inside of the troll and giving me my happily ever after. I love you forever and always. With love from your troll, your Edward._

She had smiled when she'd read it, holding a tiny Sophie in her arms, just hours old. "You silly bean," she'd said fondly. "You've always been a prince to me."

I shake the memories from my head and look over at Sophie, tucked up in her bed. How have she and Freddie grown so fast from the tiny babies we once held to these proper little people?

Sophie yawns and her eyes flutter closed. "I do like that story, Dad," she whispers.

"I know you do, honey," I whisper back. I get up from the end of her bed and go to place a kiss on her forehead. I cross the room to Freddie's bed and, as I expected, he's already fast asleep. I pull the duvet up around his shoulders and kiss him softly as well before going to the door and flicking the light off. "Night, night, my little kindergarteners."

I pick up their dirty pyjamas from the floor from the night before and carry them down the stairs, dropping them by the washing machine in the hall ready to go in with the next day's load. Then, I head back to the living room where Alice is sitting on the floor, folding up Sophie's ton of clothes.

"Thanks, Alice. I can take it from here." I sit beside her and start folding, too.

Alice nods but keeps folding silently, her jaw tight. I know what she's thinking but I hope she won't say it. There's a companionable silence for a short while but Alice, being Alice, just can't keep her thoughts to herself.

"I heard your story," she says in a polite voice. The kind of voice you use when you give your name for a doctor's appointment.

"Mmm-hmm." I focus on the pair of leggings I'm folding. I know what she's going to say and I don't want to look at her. I can't look at her.

She sighs but it's more of a huff. "The princess story again. Sophie's request, I assume."

I don't answer because I don't need to.

"When are you going to stop referring to her as a princess?" Alice asks, venom in her tone. "I mean, the story would work just as well if 'Princess Isabella' was the stinky troll instead. Or a spineless, immature piece of shit."

"I'm not sure you can swear in children's stories, Alice."

"You know that's not what I…"

"Who's been swearing, Dad?"

Alice and I both turn away from the folding to look over at the doorway where Ethan has just appeared down from his bedroom. He leans against the doorframe on his elbow, looking more grown up than any nine-year-old should legally be allowed to. His (my) reddish hair desperately needs a cut and hangs down into his eyes and his pale skin looks luminous in the bright yellow light.

"Hey, buddy," I greet him with a grin, holding my curled fist out for him to bump. He doesn't hug anymore.

"Hey, Dad." Ethan reluctantly bumps my hand and then hops up to sit on the dining table in the corner of the room. I raise an eyebrow at him questioningly and he rolls his eyes but gets down all the same. "So are you guys fighting?"

"No, of course not…" I start.

"He's my brother." Alice grins at Ethan. "Gotta tease him a bit sometimes, don't I?"

Ethan grins back. He adores Alice; in his eyes, she can do no wrong. "I guess."

"How was your day, bud?" I ask him. Today was his first day back at school after the summer although the twins don't start kindergarten until tomorrow.

Ethan shrugs. "Alright, I s'pose."

Alice regards her nephew with concern and I wonder if there's something my son isn't telling me. But I'm too tired to properly try to coerce the information out of him now so instead I reach out to him with an offer I know he won't refuse. "I haven't had any dinner yet. I'm thinking of ordering a pizza and catching a movie on Netflix. Do you want some, Ethan?"

Ethan looks up, his lips quirking into a half-smile that I know he's trying to suppress. "Serious, Dad?"

"Sure." I grin at him, feeling my heart ache for my eldest. The one I haven't been able to protect as much as I'd have liked to.

Alice clears her throat. "Edward, I'm not completely useless. I did feed the boy."

Ethan rolls his eyes again but laughs.

"Well…" I say, "this can be a midnight snack." I check the clock. "A 9 o'clock snack."

Alice sighs and stands. "Whatever, I'll leave you to it."

I reach into my pocket and get my wallet. I toss it to Ethan. "I'm gonna show Aunt Alice out. You can order the pizza – only one pizza mind. You're not having many slices at this time."

"Okay," Ethan agrees.

Alice and I leave him to it and head toward the front door. I sit on the stairs and watch as she puts on her boots and zips them up.

"Is he alright?" I ask Alice.

"Who?"

"Ethan. He seems… off," I say, twisting my wedding ring round on my finger anxiously.

Alice thinks for a moment and then says, "I think he's fine. He seems a bit down but then he did only just go back to school. I'd be miserable about that, too."

"I suppose so."

"If you're worried, talk to him." Alice steps closer to me. She's booted now and wrapped in her coat. She reaches over and grasps my hand in hers, stopping my nervous fidgeting.

I sigh and stand up beside her. "Yeah, maybe I will."

"Edward…" I know that tone. She's looking at my hand, my wedding ring, with disapproval.

"Alice, don't. Please don't. I don't know why suddenly you want to talk about it but I don't, okay?"

"I just…" Alice at least has the decency to look ashamed but then her face sets into determination. "You work so hard to give those children everything. But they're still missing the most important thing and she… she took it away! Aren't you angry?"

"Of course I'm angry, Alice!" I hiss, worried that Ethan might hear. "Of course I'm fucking angry. Sometimes I hate her, I hate her so much for what she's done to those kids. But she's coming back, she's not gone forever. It has to be this way for now. It's just for a little while."

Alice looks at me sadly, her eyes full of despair. "It's been years, Edward. You haven't seen her in three _years_."

I push down the feelings swelling inside my chest. "She will come back. She still writes."

"And you still love her."

I don't deny it. I can't deny it. I love that goddamn woman as much as I did the day I married her. I open the front door and hold it open. "Goodbye, Alice."

She sighs. "Bye, Edward." She pauses in the doorway. "Let me know how the twins get on tomorrow and call me if you need anything; anything at all."

I look at her for a long moment. I don't want to accept her help anymore but I know that I need it. So I nod. "Sure."

When she's gone, I close the door and rest my forehead against it. It's hard at this time of year because it brings back memories of when she first left, three years ago today. It was so hard to let her go but I knew that taking the scholarship was the right thing for her; for all of us. We were working hard to provide for the children but also to show them a good example, show them what they could become. How could I deny my amazing wife the chance to better herself?

But then, a small voice inside me whispers, how could you let her go?

"Dad?"

I jump with a start and turn to find Ethan behind me in the hallway.

He smiles a little. "I ordered the pizza. Is pepperoni okay?"

"That's great. Thanks, son." I drop my arm around his shoulders and lead him back to the living room. "What movie do you want to watch?"

He shrugs. "I don't mind."

We eventually settle on the latest Avengers movie even though I'm well aware that the run time will take us well past Ethan's bedtime. I allow it, though, to be able to spend a little bit of quality time with my mini-me.

When the movie's over and the pizza's all polished off, it's past eleven o'clock. I flick off the TV and say, "Come on then, let's head to bed."

Ethan doesn't move. I look at him. "Come on."

"Dad?" he says quietly.

"What? I ask, feeling a bit disgruntled that he wants to talk now when he's supposed to be in bed and I'm dead on my feet.

"Is… is Mom coming home?"

I sigh. "What's brought this on?"

"I heard you tell Aunt Alice that she's coming home." He pauses, playing with the cuff of his sweater. "So… is she?"

"Not right now," I say honestly. I can't lie to the boy. "But one day she will. When she can."

Ethan is quiet for a moment and then he simply says, "Good." He rises from the couch and starts out of the room, looking back over his shoulder to add, "Night, Dad."

I clean up downstairs and then head up to bed myself. I wash and dress in my pyjamas and settle into bed, sticking to my side although I haven't shared the bed in such a long time.

I turn off the light but I can't sleep. This day has been heavy with reminders of her. Three years to the day that she went. We dropped her at the airport. I held her and kissed her, hard; she cried into Freddie's hair. When she walked off, I waved Sophie's hand. "See you at Christmas!" she'd called over her shoulder.

I sigh and turn the light back on, reaching into my bedside table and searching through it with my hand. When my fingers touch paper, I pull it out and carefully unfold the letter that had come in the post on Christmas Eve that same year. I let the tears flow freely as I read her neat, familiar handwriting.

 _My dearest Edward,_

 _First let me start by saying I'm sorry. So sorry. I cannot tell you how sorry I am but I won't be able to make it home for Christmas. I have so much work to do and it would be too difficult for me to come back._

 _I miss you all so much it hurts. I hate it here but I will persist; I have to. I can't believe Ethan lost his first tooth! Please tell him I love him. Tell Sophie and Freddie I love them. Give them the presents we picked out and tell them I will be thinking of them constantly._

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't do more, say more, apologise more._

 _I love you so much, I cannot adequately put it into words. Edward, you are the best husband I could have asked for and no one will ever love anyone the way I love you. Please take care of them, enjoy your Christmas and know that I send my love, always._

 _Bella xxx_

The letter is preserved exactly as it was when I hid it in my drawer two and a half years ago. The crumpled lines from where I screwed it up when it first arrived, yelling down the phone at her. The tear stains that had marked the paper when I had finally accepted that we would have to have Christmas without her. The coffee stain from when Ethan knocked my drink over the letter where it had been sitting on the dining table for months. I hit him then. Hard. It was the only time I'd ever raised a hand to any of my children.

I read and re-read the letter, her words of love and comfort washing over me. Eventually, I am sleepy enough that I turn off the light. I hold the paper to my chest as I begin to drift off.

When I am on the very brink of sleep, a horrible thought comes to me.

"Good," Ethan had said. I had taken it to mean he was looking forward to his mother's future return. But what if he had been responding to the other part of my sentence? What if he was pleased that Bella wasn't coming home?

But then sleep captures me and the thought is gone as quickly as it arrived.

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 **I'm sorry. It'll get happier, I swear.**

 **Steph xo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Music is a huge influence on my writing so I'm going to include little story-relevant lyric snippets of what I'm listening to here again :) But the lyrics have no bearing on what's going to happen in the future of the story so please don't read into it too much!**

 _And here we are, where we said we'd never be_

 _You'd do anything for me but how can you lift me up when you're on your knees?_

 _It's not that I don't want you, it's just I don't know how_

 _To love you like I used to, so intense and so profound_

 _And if I could change my feelings I would forfeit all my bones_

' _Cause your love is worth a fortune but my heart's already broke._

 _ **-Broke, Lauren Aquilina**_

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 **A/N:** Thank you all so, so much for all your kind words, favourites and follows! I am beyond grateful that you all remember THWTLAL so fondly and that you're coming back to read this. I have tried to reply to every review (unless you were a guest or don't accept PMs!) and provide some reassurance that, yes, there will be a HEA and, yes, Bella has her reasons for leaving. But I will leave the explaining to her. Enjoy!

 **Also, the events of the last chapter took place on Tuesday 6** **th** **September 2016.**

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 **Chapter 2**

 **Bella POV**

 _ **6 months earlier – March 2016**_

Maggie Ireland has tightly curled dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She's wearing a tweed skirt that looks about twenty years older than she does and a no-nonsense white blouse. Her gaze is light, unpressured and yet… it makes you want to tell her all of your deepest, darkest secrets.

"So, Isabella," she says and her voice is higher than it was on the phone, "tell me: why are you here?"

I look around the room. There's a faux leather sofa beside me that looks a damn sight comfier than the awkward, off-white, oval armchair I chose to sit in. Flowers sit on a glass countertop in the corner; they are yellow roses, the colour of happiness. There are magazines on the low table in front of us and all of them feature happy, smiling, laughing people, giddy with their ridiculous delight. Doesn't she realise that's offensive? How dare she blatantly display such obvious glee in a place of such misery?

"I have a PhD in Psychology, you know," I say. I don't mean to sound snide but that's how it comes out. "A masters, too." I look directly at the woman across from me. "I know what you're going to say to me and I know how you're going to try to get me to tell you my secrets."

Maggie smiles kindly which makes me feel worse. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You are paying for these sessions, after all."

"I'm sorry. I just feel…" I pause to analyse my wildly zig-zagging emotions and eventually settle on: "defensive."

"That's perfectly normal," Maggie assures me.

I know that too but I hold my tongue.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Everything.

Nothing.

"My family."

"You have children?"

"Yes, three."

"How old are they?"

"My eldest is eight, almost nine. Then we have twins… they're…" There's a lump in my throat. I push through it. "They're five."

"Such lovely ages."

I regret coming here. I hate talking about myself and I can't face up to my past. I thought I could but I can't. "Do you have any children?" I ask Maggie.

She smiles. "Yes, they're all grown up now. Siobhan is almost twenty-three and Liam is twenty-one."

"Tell me about them."

"Are you sure? You're not paying to hear about my life."

"Just… please. Tell me."

"Well… okay." Maggie taps her pen against her notepad thoughtfully. "Siobhan is a firecracker. Red hair, like her father, and a bit of a red temper, too, I'm afraid. She's studying medicine at the moment, very clever girl. Liam's talents are… less obvious."

One side of my mouth rises into a smile despite myself. "He's not so smart?"

Maggie smiles too, the indulgent smile of a mother. "Not so much. He is a gifted musician, though. Plays piano extraordinarily well."

"My husband used to play." I cover my mouth quickly, my eyes widen. I'm not supposed to be speaking about myself.

"Used to?"

"I… I don't know if he plays now."

If Maggie is surprised to hear that I don't know this basic fact about my own husband, she doesn't show it. "Do any of your children play?"

That does it. I can almost hear the alarm bells ring in my head as the floodgates open and the tears pour freely down my cheeks. I can't answer her question. I don't _know_ the answer to her question. I must ask, I tell myself, I must ask Ethan the next time I speak to him on the phone or on Skype at the Harvard library.

But aren't these things that a mother should know? Shouldn't I be the one filling out his permission ship, cursing the sound of his squeaky violin when I'm alone but beaming with pride as he wobbles out 'Twinkle, Twinkle' at the assembly?

"I'm sorry," I say, hurriedly wiping the tears from my cheek, "I'm sorry. I can't do this." I scramble in my purse, looking for the check I wrote out to her in preparation for the session.

"Isabella," Maggie says softly, "you still have fifty minutes left of your session."

"I can't talk about them," I say, the desperation in my voice begging her to understand. _Please_ , it says, _please don't make me confront this._

"Let's talk about something else, then," she suggests. "What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

I snort but answer her question. "Scrambled eggs and a slice of brown toast."

"Did you have a drink?"

"Coffee."

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, one sugar."

She nods as though I have just told her the meaning of life rather than my coffee preferences. We are both silent for a few minutes. I can hear the clock ticking, the gentle whir of the fish tank cleaner. It's so clinical here.

Maggie shifts in her chair, re-crossing her legs. She looks serene, completely at peace with the world. "Isabella," she says, "do you think you are ready to be here?"

I actually take the time to think about her question before answering, very slowly, "Yes." I bite my lip. "I have to be ready."

"What do you mean?"

I close my eyes so I can pretend I'm talking to myself. I do this sometimes, psycho-analyse myself. I hope that it will make me feel better but it doesn't. Because, at home, when I open my eyes there is no one there to tell me what to do. Or to tell me I can redeem myself. To tell me that it will all be okay. "I'm not an idiot," I say and I am surprised at the clarity in my voice. "I know I have problems. You can't complete an entire PhD on post-partum depression, study it for a year and still deny that you had the very same symptoms yourself."

"Were you treated?"

"No." I am surprised at her question but I don't open my eyes. No one's ever responded to my monologue before. "I didn't know. There were two babies, it was hard. I thought everyone who had twins felt that way. Plus, Ethan was only four and there was only one of me…" I trail off. "I thought people with post-partum cried all the time. I was fine. Happy, for the most part. Except…"

"Except for when you weren't."

"Yes."

"So what made you wait five years to seek treatment?"

"I don't have it anymore," I say. "Post-partum depression is defined as depression experienced during the year following the birth of your child or children. My children are five; I don't need treatment for that."

"You may still be depressed," Maggie points out.

"I'm not." Hot tears roll down my cheeks. I daren't think about how my mascara is holding up. My eyes are still closed which makes it easier to admit the next part. "It's worse than that, now. You can take pills for depression. I'm not sure there's anything I can do about this."

"About what?"

There is a long, long pause. I don't open my eyes and Maggie doesn't push me. At least five minutes must pass us by, silently.

When I do speak, it's barely above a whisper. "I am a horrible, horrible person."

"No action is without redemption; without forgiveness."

"Mine is." I finally open my eyes. "You asked me why I came here."

"I did."

For what is probably the first time in the entire session, I meet Maggie's piecing gaze. "I came because I have to fix myself. I have to change. Everything has to change."

* * *

I grab some dinner on my way home from Maggie's office and when I get back, it is dark. 10pm here; 7pm there. It is so cold in my grim, one-bed flat and I put the kettle on, filling it enough to make a hot water bottle. I go to my bed and sit on it, cross-legged. I reach for my phone and unlock it. My call log is full of calls to the same number and it is that number that I dial now.

"Hello?" His voice is low, disgruntled. There's an awful shrieking sound in the background.

"Hey," I whisper, "it's me."

"Bella… now isn't really a good time, I'm jus- _Sophie_ , this is your last warning. Put that packet of pop tarts back in the cupboard or else!"

I smile involuntarily.

There's a scuffling noise on the line and then he's back and I'm swooning again at the familiar rising tones of his voice. "Sorry. What's up?"

"Edward, does Ethan play an instrument? Piano, maybe?"

"What?" I can almost hear his brow furrowing in confusion. "Bella, what does this have to do with- right, that is it. Go to your room right now, young lady. Right now." There's another scuffling noise and I hear Edward muttering under his breath. "Bella, look," he's talking to me again, "can we do this later? It's a madhouse right now. Sophie's feeding pop tarts to the DVD player and Ethan's not feeling well. I've got to go."

"Sure," I say, trying not to let the disappointment show in my voice. "Sure."

The line goes dead and I stare at my phone morosely. The people next door start arguing again and I get under the duvet and pull it over my head like I used to when my parents used to fight downstairs in the kitchen when I was a kid.

I guess I am still just a big kid, hiding from my problems under the duvet.

I don't know when but at some point I fall asleep under the protection of my blanket. When I wake in the dead of the night, I reach for my phone and I groan groggily when I see I have three missed calls and one voicemail. I dial the voicemail and hold the phone to my ear so tightly that it hurts.

"Hey, beautiful." He sounds exhausted and my heart aches. "I guess we missed each other again, I'm sorry. Ethan's ill, guess he's got the stomach flu. And the DVD player is broken now. Turns out pop tarts and electronic devices do not go together too well." He's silent for a moment. "I miss you," he says softly. "Please come home." Then he sighs. "Well, goodnight, I guess." There's another long pause and then the line clicks and the automatic voice comes back, giving me the menu of options. I press 2 and save the message.

Then, I open up the Amazon app and search for a DVD player. I find the latest model and place an order. I only wish that I could do more.

I set an alarm to make sure I'll get up and get some work done, change into my pyjamas and settle down to sleep properly. I realise that I never found out whether Ethan plays a musical instrument and, before I know it, I'm crying myself to sleep yet again.

* * *

 _ **Present Day – Wednesday 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 2016**_

I have read this document half a million times now but I read it again, for luck. I know I should settle down and get some sleep but I have to get it right before I turn it in. I smile slightly when I realise that I have not changed one bit since high school. Although high school me would never have accepted this life for myself or my family.

I'm thinking of them, now. Wondering what they're doing. It's almost 1am here so I suppose that the kids would be in bed by now. Edward hasn't tried to call today and I'm glad. Avoiding his calls for the last three months has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I told him I was too busy with my research and my job in the bar. I know he didn't buy that for one second; just a few weeks before that I'd called in sick to work just so that I could go to the library and Skype Ethan on his birthday. But what else could I say?

If I told him the truth, he'd just try to talk me out of it.

Or he'd accept it and let me go. And that scares me more than anything else.

I still send money, of course. There's a check in the post every month without fail. I only take what I need out of both my pay checks and I send the rest to Edward; to them. I hope that my generosity will make up in some small way for my absence though, deep down, I know that it won't even come close.

It's the sixth of September today (well, yesterday technically, now that it's 1am) and when I'd been stuck in traffic that morning, I'd been caught up in the hoards of moms taking their kids back to school. I wonder whether the twins have started kindergarten yet. I'm sure they will this week. I hope Edward takes a photo of them on their first day of school by the front door, like I did with Ethan. I hope Freddie will be okay. I hope his abilities won't be too far behind those of his new classmates. I hope they don't get separation anxiety like Ethan did. I don't want that pain for Edward.

I realise that I'm staring at the paper rather than actually reading it and I finally admit to myself that this is futile. I've read it so many times that it's engraved into my brain and I'm not gonna catch any typos when I'm this tired and distracted. So I pack it away into the presentation box and stash it in my satchel, ready to turn in the next day.

In bed, I rest my head on my pillow and stare at the photos on my bedside table. About fifteen frames adorn the top; some new photos sent from Edward, some old memories I brought with me. They bring me some comfort. They remind me that my children are safe and well, that they are happy. They tell me that I've done the right thing.

The next morning, I am up early and ready for the day ahead. I shower and then dress in my favourite blue sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans – but not before I catch sight of my hideous stretch marks in the mirror. I used to be proud of them after Ethan; it showed me my body had done something amazing. But twins make your skin stretch twice as much and make the evidence twice as bad. And now, when I see them, they are a painful reminder that I am, in fact, a mom.

I gather up my phone and when I look at the screen, a thrill rushes through me when I see I've received a message from Edward. It came through just after 7.30am, about half an hour ago. I guess he's not having a good night's sleep.

It's a photo. I read the caption as it loads: "Your daughter is an abomination. 5 going on 15, I can't believe I already have to stop her wearing make-up to school."

Pain stabs me clean through my chest when I receive an answer to my earlier musing. They have started school and I wasn't there for yet another major milestone in the life of my beloved children.

But then the image is loaded and I laugh out loud when it pops up on screen. It feels so good to laugh.

It's Sophie and Freddie, sitting side by side on the edge of the bath, both absolutely covered in red lipstick. My eyes well up with tears as I notice the changes in them both again. Edward sends regular pictures but it's been three long months since I've seen them on Skype and three even longer years since I held them in my arms. Sophie's dark shiny hair glints red in the light and she seems to be growing to look more like Edward than me (lucky her). Her hair disappears out of the frame and I wonder how long it is now, where it stops. Freddie's eyes are wide with delight and I can see my own father in him; in the Swan dark eyes, the dark mop of hair and the small nose. His square chin and strong jawline is entirely Edward, though.

They've both filled out a little more in the past few weeks, the chubby cheeks of infancy giving way to the sophisticated faces of small people. Sophie's chin is narrow, less dimpled, and Freddie's lips are no longer slobbery little rosebuds.

I want to hug them both and never let them go.

Before I can stop myself, I'm opening up the message properly and clicking in the reply box.

 _Haha! Cheeky monkeys. I can't believe they are starting school already! It seems only yesterday that we were in hospital cuddling them in our arms. I miss you all more than I can say xxxx_

I send it before I wonder if it's appropriate. I even add our old tradition: one kiss for each person. And then I let my head fall into my hands. _Of course_ it's not appropriate. I've not spoken to Edward in months and the first olive branch I extend back to him is a painful reminder of happier times. I haven't responded to him in weeks and now, when I do, I tell him I miss him?

Suddenly, I want to call him. Tell him not to read the text: don't read it, I don't mean it. I'm trying to pretend you don't exist, I really am. I've just never been much good at make believe.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight and force myself to pocket my phone before I do anything else I'll regret. Then, I grab up my satchel and head out of the door to turn in my latest research project.

When I arrive at Harvard campus just over an hour later, it's already abuzz with activity. Freshmen dither about every which way, looking at maps and huddling, terrified, in small groups. They only arrived on Sunday, two days ago; it'll take a while for them to settle in. It's strange to think that their Harvard journey is just beginning while mine may be coming to an end. Although it also might not be; they could offer me another paid research position but the positions change from year to year. I've been lucky enough to have earned one year of paid research straight after my PhD so to be offered another would be extremely unlikely.

I venture up the stairs to Marcus' office, a room I know very well now. His door is open when I get to it and he is sitting in there, typing away on his computer. I knock on the door.

He spins his chair and looks over his shoulder. "Bella!" he exclaims happily. "Come in, come in! How are you?" Marcus was my assigned tutor during my masters and then I chose him to be my supervisor when I completed my PhD so we have gotten to know each other quite well over the years. He is the head of Cognitive Psychology, my chosen field, here at Harvard. The research project I have completed this year falls within his expertise, naturally, so it is up to him to read and approve my essay before uploading it to Harvard's system for peer review. He's surprisingly young for such a senior position, around forty or so, with long dark hair he ties in a ponytail that falls over his trademark leather jacket. Some of the girls around here seem to think he's attractive 'for an old guy'. I'm not entirely convinced but each to their own.

I smile as I enter and shut the door behind me. "I'm well, thank you. How are you?"

"Eh, can't complain," he says with a shrug. "I'm not looking forward to the endless weeks of reading I have ahead of me – though I am very much looking forward to what you have to say."

I roll my eyes. "Flattery."

"I mean it! Really, I do. I mean, a detailed exploration of sudden and unexpected memory loss sounds impossibly fascinating. How many subjects did you use again?"

"Seventy-two continued the experiment to the end. Thirty-five dropped out at various points."

"See, I really think your findings could be valid; that is a decent enough sample. I really can't wait to see what findings you present. Do you have the hard copy with you?"

"Yes." I dig around in my satchel and bring out the presentation box which I hand over to Marcus. "I uploaded the digital copy to the shared drive last night."

"Are they identical?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic." Marcus places the box on a shelf beside his desk after checking that it's clearly labelled. "Well then, Bella, you're done until January! Now is just the wait to see what feedback the peer review generates and then the presentation."

"Yeah," I say quietly. It feels such an anti-climax. I worked so long and hard on this paper for a whole year and now it's sitting there on his shelf and it's over. I'm done.

Marcus misreads my pessimism. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. I'm sure you'll only receive the best feedback." He glances at the door quickly and then back to me. "And, just between you and me, I know you're already in talks for another potential paid research position. We've been very impressed with what we've seen so far from you, Bella. You have a very bright future within the field."

This should delight me but I feel hollow inside. "Thank you," I say politely.

"What are you going to do with yourself, then?" he asks. "Three months paid holiday! Travelling, perhaps?"

"Maybe," I say vaguely. I have no concrete plans for the months ahead and they stretch before me, endless and empty.

Marcus opens his mouth to say something else but then there is a knock at his door. We both look up to see another student standing nervously with a presentation box similar to mine.

"I guess I'll be off, then," I say to Marcus with a small smile. "Thank you so much. For everything."

"Thank _you_ , Bella. Your research has been inspiring. I will email you with my thoughts once I've read your paper. Please keep in touch."

"I will do. Goodbye, Marcus."

I leave quickly and don't look back. When I'm outside the building, I breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the wall on shaky legs. It's done. I'm free for three months. Except I don't feel free. I feel trapped, stuck here in Massachusetts and miles away from where I want to be.

I dig out my phone and check the screen but Edward still hasn't replied to my message. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised because it's only 7am where he is but I still feel the short sting of disappointment. I know I have no right to feel disappointed when I haven't given him the time of day for weeks now but I can't help it.

I glance at my watch and sigh, knowing that I have to leave now to get back in time for my lunch shift at the bar. There is no rest for the wicked. And I am truly wicked.

I don't really need the bar job. The salary for the research position is really quite generous; I would never have taken it if it wouldn't have made such a big difference to our family's finances. But I found that research can only occupy so much of one's time and the time difference meant that my family weren't always around to talk. The rest of the time, I was desperately bored and antsy. I didn't know many people or have any hobbies (being a mom does that to you). So I'd decided to take a second job. After all, we can always do with the money and Garrett's bar is friendly and fun and makes it easy to forget my problems and my pain.

So I go home again and dress in my uniform. I robotically walk down the road to the bar and go in, hang up my bag and jacket on my peg and go through the staff door to the kitchen. The smell of alcohol and greasy food hits me and its familiarity is unnerving. I'm too old for this.

"Hi, Bella," my boss, Garrett, greets me. "Could you start a stock count for me in the back? We're expecting a quiet day today so it'll be a lot of admin jobs for a while, I'm afraid." He looks away again, assuming my blind allegiance to his request.

But I don't want to answer to him anymore. "No."

Garrett looks at me and I look back, alarmed. I hadn't given myself permission to say that, not really.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

It comes spilling out then and it seems there's nothing I can do to stop it. "No. No, I'm not okay and no I won't start a stock count. I can't stay here, Garrett, I can't. I'm sorry."

"Wh… what are you doing?"

"I quit." I untie my apron behind my back and put it down on the gleaming kitchen counter beside me. Then I turn my back on Garrett, whose mouth is opening and closing like a fish, and stride back the way I came.

"Bella, you need to give notice…"

I turn on my heel. "I don't care!" I say, louder than I expected to.

"Bella… you must be ill… this isn't like you."

"You don't even _know_ me, Garrett! You don't know the first thing about me." I reach into my shirt and pull out the simple chain I never take off from around my neck. My wedding ring dangles from the end. "All those times I've turned you down? I'm fucking _married_. I have three children at home, Garret, I send them all the money I have."

He stares at me, astounded.

I feel like I'm floating, watching this unfold from above. This must be my meltdown. I knew it would come eventually.

"Don't pretend to know me. You don't. This _is_ like me. The real me." I laugh once and the sound is bitter. "The real me leaves, okay? The real me always leaves. So I quit. I'm sorry I didn't give any notice; heck I didn't even give myself any notice. But I can't do this for a moment longer, I can't live this double life anymore. Goodbye, Garrett."

He looks as though he wants to say something else but I don't give him the time to. I sweep out of the kitchen, grab my bag and jacket off the peg and am out of the bar like a shot.

It's funny. I've essentially lost both of my jobs in one day. I should feel scared and anxious but as I walk back down the street I came up only minutes earlier I notice that there's a skip in my step. I feel free.

I buy some ice cream on my way home, feeling like celebrating. Although what I'm celebrating, I do not know.

I've gone crazy, I'm quite sure of it. I'm humming when I walk into my apartment. The people next door are arguing as usual, but I can easily block it out in my sunny mood. I flop on my bed and open up my phone, searching Google for the Boston Logan International Airport bookings number and then I call it. I book a flight and then a cab to the airport. I hire a car to be collected from Seattle Tacoma International Airport.

Then I dial one more number, a number I've been using more and more recently.

She answers on the third ring, her high voice ringing politely down the line. "Hello, Bella. What can I do for you?"

It's funny. Maggie has pretty much become my closest friend here. Which is stupid because I have never seen her outside of her office and, to her, I am just another client. To me, she is the only person who knows the real me. "Maggie," I say and my voice is a hurried slur. I hope I didn't sound like that on the phone to the airport and cab company. I take a breath and slow down. "Maggie, I need an appointment. I need one urgently. Tomorrow."

"Calm down, Bella. I'm afraid I'm fully booked tomorrow. Is it something we can talk about on the phone?"

"No, no! It's not! I need to talk to you properly. I need you to help me with coping strategies."

"Coping strategies? For depression? Bella, are you feeling okay? Are you feeling suicidal? It will get better, I promise. We've been making good progress in our sessions, Bella, and I know you'll get better."

"No, Maggie, you don't understand. I need coping strategies to be around them."

"Around who?"

"My children."

She's quiet for a moment. "Are they coming here? Is that wise?"

"No, they're not coming here." I feel tears spill over and down my cheeks. My emotions are all over the place so I'm not sure whether they're happy tears, sad tears, desperate tears or just tears that have been building and building ever since I arrived here in Cambridge, Massachusetts three long years ago. "I'm going home, Maggie." The words sound like a lie to my own ears but they're not. I mean it, I mean every word. I clear my throat and I say it again, my voice reverent, as though my statement is a desperate prayer.

"I'm going home."

* * *

 **I hope that this has given you a little insight into Bella's mind and how she's faring up. There is still much more to her absence than what's discussed in this chapter and there are obviously explanations and serious talks ahead but, for now, I hope that Bella is a little more understood and a little less hated by you all!**

 **Also, I have taken a little creative license with the Harvard situation – I don't know a great deal about the 'even further education' system works, especially not over in the USA (I'm British). I've tried to follow what I do know and use common sense but I could well be wrong.**

 **I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; please do let me know what you think!**

 **Steph xo**


	3. Chapter 3

_I give I give I give you never take,_

 _I bend I bend I bend so we won't break,_

 _I've been doing cartwheels_

 _Anything to save us, anything to make you notice me_

 _I've been running circles, always getting nowhere,_

 _Putting on a show but you won't see_

 _I've been doing cartwheels_

 _ **Cartwheels, Ward Thomas**_

 **(Amazing country duo from my home county here in England and a beautiful song. If you like country music, check these girls out!)**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _ **Wednesday 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 2016**_

 **Edward POV**

I'm awoken by a sickly-sweet voice coming from near my head. "Daddy, how long until we go to school?"

I rub my eyes wearily as they flicker open and adjust to the dark. Sophie stands next to me in her glittery, pink Frozen top. She has apparently tried to do her own hair as it's in a haphazard mess on top of her head, held down with clips and some weirdly-placed hairbands. I blink at her and then notice that she's covered her chin in something red as well.

I groan as I sit up and look over at the clock and then fall back on the pillow. "Sophie Alice Cullen, it is four o'clock in the morning. School doesn't start for another five hours!"

"Okay," Sophie says slowly. "Can I play on the iPad until it's time to leave, then?"

"No!" I begrudgingly get out of bed and usher her along the hallway to the bathroom. I switch on the light and squint at my daughter. "What is that on your face?"

"Diplick," she says, as though it's obvious.

"Where did you find lipstick around here?"

"Mommy's drawer."

"Wait here," I tell Sophie. I go back to my bedroom and turn on the light and, sure enough, the drawer on Bella's side of the bed is open and the contents are all over the floor. How I didn't hear her going through there, I have no idea. I sigh and get a flannel from the linen closet before returning to the bathroom to wipe the lipstick off Sophie's face. When I return, she's sitting on the side of the bathtub and she's been joined by Freddie, who is also wearing lipstick across his chin, cheeks and even his eyebrows.

Not one to miss an opportunity for future blackmail, I get the pair of them to pose for a photo which I snap on my iPhone before getting to cleaning them up.

"Now, Sophie," I say as I wipe the mess off, "you know only ladies wear lipstick, don't you?"

She giggles and peeks over at Freddie.

"And only grown up ladies wear lipstick. Kindergarteners are not allowed to wear make-up at all, okay? Especially not in the middle of the night." Once I've cleaned the make-up off their hysterical little faces, I send them back to bed.

"You need to sleep for another three hours," I tell them firmly. "Stay in bed until I come and get you in the morning and don't get up before then, understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sophie says with a resigned sigh. I am already dreading the day she turns thirteen.

"Fred?"

"Yes, Dad," he replies.

"Goodnight, you two."

I head back to my own bed, flicking the lights off as I go. When I'm back under the covers, I unlock my phone and open up the picture I took of the troublesome two. Even though I desperately want to be asleep and even though what they did was both incredibly annoying and really quite naughty, I can't help but chuckle at the image of their cheesy grins underneath the tomato red 'diplick'. Before I can stop myself, I open a new text message and load the photo to it, adding the caption: _"Your daughter is an abomination. 5 going on 15, I can't believe I already have to stop her wearing make-up to school."_

I hit send before I think about it. I know she won't reply; she hasn't responded to my texts in months. I always see the read receipts, though. I scroll back through the recently sent texts between us. I sent a few pictures over the summer. One of the twins with ice cream on their noses. Ethan proudly holding a papier maché sculpture he had to make for school. Freddie somehow sleeping on his head. Ethan sitting in the front seat of my police cruiser and grinning, the lights flashing overhead. Sophie falling asleep in her dinner, chocolate mousse plastered to her forehead.

The last incoming message in the conversation was on the 20th June.

"Happy birthday, baby. I'm thinking of you."

She'd actually answered the phone that day. It had been the first time I'd heard her voice in weeks, since the end of May. Our conversation is the last thing I recall as I slip back into the safe ignorance of sleep.

* * *

 _ **20**_ _ **th**_ _ **June 2016**_

I'm in bed, propped against my pillows and the TV is still on, quietly mumbling to me in the dark room. It's been a decent enough birthday, my twenty-seventh. The kids apparently went shopping with Alice and Charlie a few days earlier and picked me out some gifts they thought I would like. These gifts varied from very welcome indeed (a new electric razor chosen by Ethan; top of the range, he had good taste), to mundane but necessary (socks, of course) to the downright bizarre (a singing sheep egg timer that Sophie had told Charlie I would love because "Daddy loves sheep," even though I have never felt strongly about sheep one way or another).

We went to my parents' house for a home-cooked dinner and pretty much everyone turned up. Jasper and Alice and her ever-protruding bump; Em and Rose and their three girls. Jane and Mason couldn't make it over from Eugene where Jane's attending the University of Oregon but Steven Marshall made an appearance, now best buds with my father after they bonded over their troublesome children.

But something has been missing all day, even more so than the last two years. And it isn't just that she wasn't here for the celebrations that bothers me. It's the simple fact that, without her read receipts acknowledging my texts, I wouldn't know if she were dead or alive. Her Facebook account has been dormant and my emails ignored.

So now that I'm in bed and it's the very end of the day and it's half past one in Massachusetts and she's been ignoring me for four weeks, the last thing I expect her to do is answer the phone. But I try calling anyway.

"Hello?"

I nearly drop the phone, sure it's an illusion.

"Hello? Edward?"

"Bella!" I say, too loud considering that the children are in bed. I lower my voice. "Bella, you answered."

"Yeah." I can hear the smile in her voice. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Isn't it late there?"

She chuckles lightly. "Well, yeah. But not too late to wish you a happy birthday."

"Technically my birthday's over," I tell her. "Where you are, anyway."

"Not where you are. So… happy birthday."

I clutch the phone to my cheek and squeeze my eyes shut, revelling in the delicious pain that strikes my heart when she speaks. "God, it's so good to hear your voice."

"You too," she says softly.

"Does this mean you're not…" _pretending we don't exist_ "…too busy anymore?"

She sighs. "No, no. I still need more time, Edward, I'm sorry." Her voice breaks and she clears her throat. "I am sorry, really, I am."

Anger bubbles inside of me. "Just tell me the truth about why you're ignoring us, Bella. I'm your husband. I deserve more than this."

"You do, I know you do." She's crying. I can tell.

"So tell me the truth, then!" I growl. "Is there someone else? Have you met someone?"

She gasps. "What?! No, _god no_! Edward, how can you even think that?"

"You've been avoiding me and the kids for weeks, Bella, something's going on. I'm not stupid so don't you dare treat me like I am."

"I don't think that, Edward, I…"

"So you know that I know?"

There's a long pause. "Know what?"

"I know that you're lying," I say. "I know that you're not too busy with work or research or whatever other _bullshit_ you're doing instead of being here for your children… for me."

She's silent. Then: "You're right. It's not that. But, Edward, I can't tell you. Just please trust me, I can't. It's for the best. I _promise you_ that there is no one else. There never has been and never will be, you know that."

"Then just tell me. It can't be that bad."

She sighs quietly. "I'm not going to tell you, Edward."

"You know, Bella, sometimes…" I stop myself.

"Sometimes what?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it." Her voice is hard. Like she knows what I'm going to say. "Say it, Edward. Sometimes what?"

I press my lips together and then I say it so quietly it's almost inaudible. "Sometimes, I really, really hate you."

There's a small sound from her end and I can just picture her, crying with her hand covering her mouth, biting her palm gently. "I know," she says eventually. "I hate me, too."

"Just come home."

"No. I can't."

"Bella, you are so utterly ridicu-"

"What are you wearing?" she says abruptly.

"What do you mean what am I wearing? Pyjamas, I'm in bed."

"If I were sitting next to you, I would start kissing you, softly at first and then harder. I would straddle your lap and start taking my top off…"

I breathe out unsteadily when I realise what she's doing. But still I ask, "Bella, what are you doing?"

"It's your birthday and this is a present," she says simply. "Take your pants off, Edward."

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Bella-"

"Do it." Her voice is husky, commanding and oh so sexy.

I debate against the voice in the back of my mind for a moment. A minute ago, I confessed to hating her. And it's true. I do hate her. Part of me deep inside hates her with a fiery passion. But she's my wife. I love her, too. And I certainly, definitely lust after her.

"Edward…" Now her voice carries the tone of a threat.

"One sec." I get out of bed and cross the room to the doorway and listen carefully for a moment. Everything is silent in the darkness of the house. I close the door until it clicks shut properly and then I slip out of my pyjamas and get back into bed. I put the phone back to my ear. "You were saying?"

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 7** **th** **September 2016**_

When my phone alarm blares, I grab it up to silence it and snooze just a bit longer. But when I look at the screen, all thoughts of getting an extra few winks are abandoned. There's a reply to my photo text.

 _Haha! Cheeky monkeys. I can't believe they are starting school already! It seems only yesterday that we were in hospital cuddling them in our arms. I miss you all more than I can say xxxx_

My heart pangs in my chest at the memory. Her smiling weakly at me from the hospital bed while I carefully balance a twin in each arm. They were so tiny, much smaller than Ethan, but they were fine. And that had been all that we could hope for.

I can't help but feel a bit disgruntled at her response. The first words I've had from her in months seem insensitive to my emotions. It's like she _wants_ to dig up the past. I'm not sure what to make of it so I don't respond right away and put the phone back on the dresser.

Then there's a soft knock on my bedroom door. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Ethan sticks his head in. "Sophie's crying."

"Okay, I'm coming," I say with a sigh. It has begun.

It's a hectic morning. Once I've calmed Sophie down (she couldn't find the matching pair for her Olaf sock), washed, dressed and instructed the twins to get dressed no fewer than eleven times, we're already running later than I'd like. I hurriedly chuck some cereal in bowls for the kids and munch on a piece of cold toast as I run through the checklist of what Soph and Freddie will need for their first day once more.

Freddie spills his juice everywhere and Sophie won't eat her cereal and Ethan doesn't want to walk to school with us because we'll embarrass him.

"Ethan, we are all walking the same way, we will walk together," I say firmly as I try to mop up the juice but end up just leaving a sticky residue. "Freddie, put your shoes on."

"Daaad…" Sophie shouts from upstairs. "Where's my fairy wand?"

"You don't need your fairy wand! Come down here and put your shoes on!"

"Can't I just leave now, Dad?" Ethan asks with a pout. "If I wait for you guys, I'll be late."

"No, Ethan. You will wait and we will walk together."

"But why?"

Freddie totters into the kitchen. "Daddy, I did my shoes!"

"That's great, Fred, but they're on the wrong feet, buddy."

"I _neeeeed_ my fairy wand!" Sophie shrieks.

"No, you don't! Sophie come down here now or we'll be late." I bend down and help Freddie with his shoes.

"Dad, why do we have to walk together? I'm old enough to go by myself now."

"Ethan, today is a big day for Sophie and Freddie so we will all walk together as a family."

Ethan scowls at this and his next sentence has an edge to it I've never heard before in his voice. "I don't know why you want to pretend we're all a real, happy, normal family."

"What do you mean, Ethan? We are a normal family."

"Yeah, right," he spits. "Normal families have moms, Dad." With that, he grabs up his school bag and heads for the door.

"Come here, _now_. Don't you dare walk out that door, young man!"

Ethan doesn't even look over his shoulder as he leaves and slams the door behind him.

I stand and stare at the door for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Ethan has never spoken back to me like that before.

"Ooh, is Ethan gonna be in such a lot of trouble, Dad?" Sophie asks from the doorway where she has finally appeared without her fairy wand.

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "He will be – and so will you if your shoes are not on your feet in one minute!"

She disappears to the hall to find her new light-up trainers and I kneel back down on the floor to carry on helping Freddie.

We get to school just after the bell rings. The doors are closed and I can't help but feel that, yes, we are officially late. I usher the twins in through the main door and take them through to the kindergarten classrooms.

Luckily, the children are still scrambling around the classroom, hanging up their coats and finding a place for their packed lunches so we're not interrupting anything when I knock on the door and catch the teacher's attention. The young woman who I assume is the teacher turns and regards me with a huge smile. As she approaches us, I notice she seems familiar. I wonder whether she's taught Ethan before but it's not until she is beside me and kneeling down to greet Sophie and Freddie that I realise who she is.

"Hi," she says to the twins, "you must be Sophie and Freddie. My name is Miss Stanley and I'll be your teacher this year."

"Hi Miss Stanley," Sophie says, ever the confident little madam. "My daddy wouldn't let me bring my fairy wand to show you but I will bring it for you tomorrow."

Miss Stanley smiles. "That sounds lovely. Is this your daddy?"

Sophie looks up at me and beams back. "Yep."

"Hello, Edward." Jessica stands up to greet me this time.

Sophie giggles. "See, Daddy, she already knows your posh name." Sophie thinks anyone's first name is their 'posh name'. Why she thinks this is a mystery to me.

"Why don't you kids go and see if you can find your coat pegs?" Jessica encourages. "You can come and say goodbye to your dad in a second."

"Okay," Sophie agrees and she and Freddie wander off, hand-in-hand.

"Hi, Jessica," I greet my old high-school acquaintance belatedly. "I didn't know you were a teacher now?"

"Oh, yeah, I graduated a couple of years ago. I've been teaching down in Seattle but I wanted to come home so I applied for this job and ta-dah! Here I am."

I force a smile. "That's great. Sorry we're a bit late, it's been a… hectic morning."

"Yeah, I heard that Bella's not around anymore," Jess says sympathetically, as if that were the sole reason for our tardiness.

I'm surprised to hear that she knows about this and even more surprised that she'd have the nerve to bring it up. "Um… well, yeah, she's studying at Harvard at the moment. You know, getting a better education and that. But, uh, we're still married." I try to say it with a jovial tone, as if it were a joke. But it cuts a little too close to home and instead I just sound strained.

"Yeah, I guess it must have been hard for Bella. She was so smart at school and then to have kids so young! It does reduce your options – or, well, apparently it doesn't!" Jess says with a smile. "Of all the things I never would have predicted at high school, this is it."

"Bella going to Harvard?" I ask, beginning to feel offended. Isabella Swan getting in to Harvard wasn't a difficult call to make, even as early as freshman year.

"Oh no, not that," Jess says casually but doesn't elaborate. "It's so sweet how you're still married after that random Psychology project. And your kids seem adorable. And you're just as handsome as ever."

"Uh…" I really have no response to that. She still runs as hot and cold as I remember from high school.

Sophie and Freddie re-join us then. Sophie is grinning like a cat that's got the cream but Freddie comes and wraps his arms around my leg. I bend down so that I can meet his worried gaze.

"I don't like it, Daddy," he whispers.

"It'll be okay, Freddie, I'll be back later to come and get you both. You're gonna have so much fun, I can't wait to hear all about it!"

"No, I want to come home with you."

I could swear my heart actually tears a little bit at hearing his concern. Ethan was fairly clingy when he started school but Bella usually dropped him off back then so this was all new to me. "Buddy, I promise you are gonna have such a good time here with Sophie and Miss Stanley. I have to go but I will be back in no time at all, you'll see."

Freddie flings himself at me and starts crying into my shoulder.

"Come on, Freddie," Sophie says, trying to encourage her brother. "It looks fun. Look they have legos over there."

Jessica also bends down beside us. "Do you like Lego, Freddie?" she asks softly.

He sniffs but nods a little.

"We have a great Lego collection. Shall we go and have a little look together?"

Freddie looks at me and seeing the tears in his eyes causes a lump to form in my throat. His big brown eyes are full of apprehension and worry and his little face is just the spitting image of his mother. I wish I could comfort him better, I wish I could stay. But I can't. He has to get used to being here and I have to get to work.

"Freddie, go and have a look at the Lego with Miss Stanley and then make sure to tell me all about it when you come home, okay?"

He looks worried but eventually gives a little nod. I give him a big hug and then reluctantly let him go to Jessica to go and investigate the Lego. I turn to say goodbye to Sophie but she's already at the Lego station, more than making herself at home.

So I turn and leave the classroom. I walk back down the empty corridors and out of the front door and down the road. I hold it in until I can't see the school anymore and then I break down. Tears spill from my eyes and I don't know if it's from pure misery that I can't help Freddie better or from frustration at Ethan's outburst earlier or from the anger and sorrow that's been building within me for three years.

I think of Freddie's adorable chocolate brown eyes and cry harder, remembering the last time I had to look into teary brown eyes and know there was nothing I could do to help.

"Do something, Edward," she'd begged when I'd met her at the hospital, clinging to my shirt as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the planet. "Oh my God, do something. _Please_."

I can still hear the agony in her voice and the very memory of the sound still tears me to shreds inside.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight and shake my head, telling myself to snap out of it. I don't have time to think about these things, I've got to get to work.

A couple of hours later, I'm sitting behind my desk at the station filling out paperwork and filing reports. It's been busy lately and so there's a lot of paperwork that's been backed up. I'm writing up a report on a domestic incident I attended a few days ago when there's a knock at the door. "Come in," I say clearly and glance up when the door opens. I smile easily when I see my father-in-law stepping into the office. "Hey, Charlie."

"Hi, Edward," he says. "How did it go?"

I sighed and put my pen down, rubbing my face with my hands. "Alright, I guess. Sophie was in like a shot-"

"Surprise, surprise," Charlie chuckles, shaking his head.

"I know. Freddie was more difficult. He didn't want me to go. He cried."

Charlie nodded. "Bella was like that when she started kindergarten."

"Yeah, so was Ethan. Honestly, I have no idea where Sophie gets her confidence."

Charlie fixes me with a pointed stare. "I'm pretty sure the confidence comes from the Cullen gene pool," he teases. But he is right.

"Mmm," I agree, pretending to think about it. "She definitely gets it from Alice."

Charlie laughs, a proper belly laugh that fills the room.

I open my mouth to tell him about Ethan's earlier outburst but I find myself hesitating. Charlie has been fantastic since Bella left, always stepping up to help with the kids and being as flexible as he can with my hours at work, but we've never truly spoken about her absence. Not properly.

"What is it?" Charlie asks, catching my internal deliberation.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"Bullshit, Cullen. I'm a trained detective, you know, I can detect things. What's wrong?"

"It's Ethan," I admit. "He's… well, he had a moment this morning."

"What kind of moment?"

"I… it's nothing, really. He's just getting older, I suppose."

"What did he do, Edward?"

"It's not so much what he did that bothered me. It's what he said."

"Well, what did he say, then?"

I pause and notice that I'm twisting my ring again in agitation. I halt my actions but continue looking down at the desktop. "He said that we're not a real family because… well, because real families have moms."

Charlie sighed and took the vacant seat opposite me. He is silent for a few minutes, possibly debating what to say. "You know, Edward, I will never, ever condone what my daughter has done. Ever. But…"

"I know," I say pre-empting his next sentence, "she did what she thought was best. Hell, we all thought it was best."

"I wasn't going to say that. She may have done what she thought was right but it wasn't. She was wrong to leave you, to leave them. I was going to say that it doesn't surprise me."

I openly stare at Charlie for a moment. It didn't surprise him that Bella had left? I had never seen a more devoted mom, never encountered a more loving wife, never met a more responsible person. If there was one thing I never would have predicted it would be that the day we left her at the airport would be the last time we would see her in person for years. "What?" is all I can say.

"Bella's a lot like her own mom. Devoted and loving, no doubt, but free-spirited. If I know Bella then I know she regrets it and I know she misses those kids like hell but she had to make the right decision for her. That's what Renee did when she left Bella here with me."

I mull over his words for a short while and realise that he's right. But there's one thing that scares me to death in his assumption. And that's the simple fact that Renee never came back. I want to ask Charlie if he thinks Bella will come back but I can't get my mouth to form the words. I am too scared to hear the answer.

"You will have times like these, Edward. It's horrible and the kids always seem to pick the worst moment to bring it up but you can't do anything about it. He needs to work through his emotions and you just need to be there for him and assure him that we all love him very much. Sadly, it's part and parcel of being a single-parent household."

"We're not a single-parent household," I say automatically.

Charlie just looks at me with sad eyes.

Suddenly, I don't want to talk about my personal life anymore. I scramble to think of something else I can use to change the subject and am grateful when I notice a discrepancy in the paperwork before me. "Uh, Chief, I wanted to ask you about this…" I say, pushing the paperwork across the desk towards him and effectively ending the painful conversation.

I only work a half day to make sure that I can be there to pick up the twins on their first day and when I rock up to the school, I'm delighted to discover that I'm early. I wait outside the classroom door with the other anxious parents, all shuffling about nervously as they await the return of their children. I look around to see whether I recognise any of the parents from pre-k and there are a few familiar faces but none I can instantly put a name to. One of them, a blonde lady who looks far too glamorous for the school run, catches my eye and smiles at me in an overly-friendly way. I give her a half-smile back and quickly look away, lest she get the wrong idea.

Then, the door opens and the kids come spilling out. I look at all the little heads, feeling nerves in the pit of my stomach. I see Sophie first. She comes speeding out as soon as her eyes lock on me and arrives at my side talking a mile a minute. "School is just the best Daddy, I love it there, can we go there every day? Can my new friend Charlotte come round to play, Daddy? I said she could because she said she wanted to play with my Frozen dolls and I said that she could even come today or maybe even tomorrow and then we can have sleepovers and eat chocolates in bed! I've always wanted to eat chocolates in bed. Oh! And ice cream! Strawberry ice cream, please, Daddy. I'll just go and tell Charlotte that she can come and eat strawberry ice cream with me in my bed…"

I grab hold of Sophie by the shoulder. "Woah there, Soph. Slow down! Stay with me while we wait for Freddie." I'm becoming more anxious as more children flow out of the door but none of them are my son. Why didn't they stay together?

Finally, Jessica Stanley comes to the door of the classroom and a miserable-looking Freddie clings to her side. Jessica sees me standing and I deftly guide myself and Sophie through the throng of chattering moms to get to them. I kneel down to address Freddie directly, rather than Jessica. "Hey, Freddie. How was school?"

Immediately, he bursts into tears and I feel pained to my very core. I reach out for him and cuddle him close, my gorgeous little guy. "Ssh, it's okay, bud," I say. I pick him up so that I can speak to Jessica while I cuddle him and Sophie huffs beside me.

"Um… Edward," Jessica says awkwardly. "Can we have a minute?"

"Sure," I start but then I stop and groan. "No, I've got to go and get my other son from fourth grade. Can I come back around here in a minute? I don't want him to walk home alone."

"Sure," Jessica replies kindly. She shoots me a small smile. "I'll see you in a minute."

Ethan won't look me in the eye when we get to his classroom to pick him up. In a way, I'm relieved. I know we will have to talk about what happened this morning but I'm not so sure I could deal with that right now on top of my concerns about Freddie.

"Hi," the teacher greets me when I approach. She looks much older than any of Ethan's previous teachers, grey-haired and stern-looking. "You must be Ethan's dad."

"Hi, yes, Edward Cullen." I awkwardly reach a hand out to shake hers but its tricky loaded up as I am, holding Freddie in one arm and the twins' lunch boxes in the other.

She waves me off but her eyes appraise me with an air of unfriendliness. "Don't worry, I can see you've got your hands full. I'm Mrs Hudson. It's good to finally meet you."

I smile kindly at her, despite the slightly frosty reception. She's probably annoyed I'm a little late round to fourth grade; Ethan is the only kid left. "Thank you." I turn my attention to Ethan. "Come on then, we've just got to pop back to kindergarten to quickly talk to the twins' teacher."

Ethan rolls his eyes a little but doesn't argue. He picks up his backpack off the floor and follows me back around the school in silence.

When we get back to the kindergarten classroom, Jessica comes to meet us. "Hi kids, I've put the Lego back out on the table over there. Do you want to have a quick play while I talk to your daddy?"

"Okay." Sophie obediently goes to the table to play but Freddie tucks his face into my neck.

"Come on, Freddie, you go and play. I will be right over here," I tell him quietly as I put him down on the floor. "I promise I won't go anywhere."

"Come on, Fred," Ethan says, finally breaking his silence. "I'll come and play with you."

Freddie reluctantly takes Ethan's hand and goes to the Lego table.

I turn to Jessica. "What's the problem?"

She hands me a plastic carrier bag and says quietly, "Freddie wet himself today. His pants are in the bag. We gave him a spare pair from lost property."

I'm horrified for a second. Freddie hasn't done that in years.

"Don't worry," Jess says hurriedly, recognising the expression on my face. "It's really very common when they get nervous or scared. I just wanted to ask you to pack a spare pair for a few days. It'll make him more comfortable if he can change into his own clothes."

"Uh… sure," I reply helplessly. "He seems really upset. Is there anything we can do about that or…?"

"Not really. It takes some children longer to adjust than others. It's only their first day, Edward, he'll adapt very quickly; that's what children do. It's often more painful for the parent than the child when it comes to separation anxiety."

"Well… okay," I say slowly. "Was that all?"

She nods and smiles at me. "Yes, that's all. Unless… unless there was anything you were after?"

I may be imagining it but the way she asks me seems almost flirtatious. "No. That's fine. Thank you, Miss Stanley."

"Edward, call me Jessica. We are old friends, after all." She places a hand on my forearm and I automatically step backwards.

"Come on then, kids," I call across the room but I don't take my eyes off Jessica's face, which drops a little at my physical rejection. "Let's go home."

Freddie holds my hand in a vice-like grip all the way home. Ethan is quiet and Sophie makes the most of the silence to put herself front and centre, chattering about her new friends and the toys she likes at big school and what she wants for her upcoming birthday.

I nod and 'mmm' and 'aah' in all the right places but I'm not really listening. My mind is replaying the moment that Jessica reached out to touch me. I know that I've never particularly liked her and I know that it's an inappropriate thought to have about my children's teacher but I can't help thinking how nice it was to feel wanted again.

* * *

 **Thank you all once again for your lovely reviews! I'm sorry if I didn't manage to get back to you but I don't think I'm going to be able to reply to every review like I used to :( I will try to answer direct questions as best as I can and if you want to chat, do feel free to send me a private message!**

 **I hope that you liked this chapter! The kids give Edward the run around, Charlie shares us his opinion of Bella and Edward seems to be losing his patience…**

 **Please let me know what you think!**

 **Steph xo**


	4. Chapter 4

_Some battles you can fight forever_

 _Some end before they start_

 _Some lovers find a way together_

 _And some just fall apart_

 _Don't think it doesn't hurt me, too_

 _To leave you in the dark_

 _It ain't your fault_

 _I might have been born to break your heart_

 _ **-Born to Break Your Heart, Josh Abbott Band**_

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Bella POV**

 _ **Thursday 8**_ _ **th**_ _ **September**_

I'm in Maggie's office again. She's managed to clear a free hour in her busy schedule to see me as a matter of urgency. I'm sitting on the couch today.

Maggie's looking at me with concern. "When are you going home?" she asks straight away, no beating around the bush today.

"Tomorrow morning," I reply. "First thing."

"Okay," she says slowly. "Why? What's brought this on?"

"I'm tired, Maggie. I can't keep doing this to Edward, to the kids. They need closure and I need to give it to them, one way or another."

"A clean break," she says, remembering my words from a few weeks ago.

"Yes." I nod and then hesitate. "No. I don't know."

"You're still not sure what you're going to do?"

"No," I admit. "I'm going to take the papers with me."

"You remember what Mr Jenks said?"

"I know."

"If you go through with this, Edward will get custody."

"I know. And that's for the best." My eyes drift to the floor, to the familiar white fluffy rug. "They are better off without me."

"Now you don't know that," Maggie says. She's supposed to be impartial but there's emotion in her voice.

"But I don't not know that."

She sighs. "Have you made any further progress with the blackouts?"

"No."

"Bella, you know that I won't pass judgement on any of your decisions. They're yours to make and yours alone but… I do believe that talking to your husband in an honest and open manner might be the best way to resolve this."

I sigh in frustration. She's said this before. "He'll hate me."

"He might understand. He might be able to help you recover your memories."

"He might not," I say. "He might realise the truth. That I'm an awful mother and shouldn't be allowed near them ever again."

"And you might impose this upon yourself anyway," Maggie points out. "I think that you need to spend more time thinking about this. If you serve your husband with divorce papers then you might not be able to see your children again anyway and yet you fear talking to him in case of the very same consequence. I'm afraid that your reasoning doesn't make a great deal of sense."

I let my head fall into my hands. "I know. But I can't sit and think about this anymore, Maggie. I need to do something. I miss them _so much_. God, I miss Edward so much. I love him with all my heart and I can't keep ignoring him."

"So you'll talk to him?" she asks.

"Yes," I admit slowly.

"Properly?"

I sigh. "I'll try. But I think this is a conversation that has to happen in person." I couldn't bear trying to explain such horrific things to him over the phone and not be able to see or tell how he really feels.

Maggie nods. "I agree." There's a pause and then she says softly, "Are you still taking your medication?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, I'm still taking your stupid happy pills."

"Bella, I think they've really helped. You're facing your problems head on and openly discussing them now. That's a vast improvement than when you first came here. You couldn't even say his name without crying six months ago."

I nod because she's right. "Can I ask you something, Maggie?"

"Of course."

"Are you my friend?"

She smiles. "That would depend on how you define friend. Ultimately, I'm your therapist and you're my patient. But if you consider me a friend then I consider you one too."

I roll my eyes again. "That's diplomatic."

She laughs and it's a surprising sound. High and twinkling, like a peel of bells.

"Can I ask you a question as a friend?"

"I suppose so."

"What would you do? In my situation?"

She looks directly at me with those piercing blue eyes. "As your therapist, I can't answer…"

"I know, I know." I wave her off but then look at her and I can feel the desperation in my expression. "But as my friend?"

She looks at me for a long time and I know she's debating against herself. Eventually, she closes her notebook, puts it down on the table and leans forward slightly. "As your friend?"

"Yes."

"Bella, as your friend, I would tell you that you've got a long way to go. You have a lot to work through and you're incredibly confused."

"You still sound like a shrink."

Maggie laughs again and says, "Well, I happen to be a shrink. I don't stop being one, you know. Friend and therapist aren't mutually exclusive terms." Then she sighs again. "I would probably encourage you to reconnect with your husband if you can. I think that divorcing him when you haven't properly talked through what's happened would be a mistake. But I completely understand why you don't feel that it's safe to be with your children. Personally, I think it would probably be fine to see them now that you're on the right medication. But…" She stops.

"But what?"

"It's a big thing to risk, the safety of your children. The things that you've told me are valid reasons for concern and I won't undermine that. It would be stupid to act without really knowing more for certain but maybe we never will."

I think about what she's said. "But you said the memories might come back."

"I did but I also said that they might not."

"I've been trying all the methods you gave me for six months now and nothing's happened. If… if I never remember then… I can never go back."

Maggie sighs. "I get that, Bella, I do. But I think never is an awfully long time, especially for your children." There's a long pause and then she picks her notebook back up again and sits back in her chair. "You said on the phone that you want some coping strategies. What kind of thing were you thinking?"

I smile bitterly. The therapist is back and the friend is gone. Whatever Maggie may say, the two are mutually exclusive. I can see the difference.

When I don't answer, Maggie says, "Shall we just talk about general coping strategies for depression to start with and then progress from there?"

"Sure," I reply but I'm starting to tune out already. I'm not sure why I asked for this session anymore. She's not telling me anything I didn't already know. But I stick with it and hope that the strategies will help me when I go home. Because I am going.

Not a thing on this planet could stop me.

* * *

I stay up late that night despite my early flight the next morning. I'm too busy wrapping the twins' birthday presents. I constantly buy things for all of them and hoard them throughout the year in the space in my wardrobe. I take my time carefully wrapping them, wondering whether they'll like their gifts.

I frown as I wrap a Frozen dressing gown, age 6-7. At Christmas Sophie was Frozen-obsessed, according to Edward. When he read her Christmas list to me (mostly for fun because a lot of the gifts were impractical), the word 'Elsa' had cropped up more times than I could count. But Christmas was a long time ago now and children grew quickly. What if she didn't like Frozen anymore?

And what kind of mother wouldn't know that about her child?

I sigh and persevere, knowing that each gift was here because it had made me think of my gorgeous children and isn't it the thought that counts? _Not to a six-year-old_ my brain argues with me.

I wrap several more gifts. A robotic, plush dog that will do as you say and (according to the box) love you back. An emergency rescue Lego scene. Two carefully selected hatchimals, apparently the must-have toy this year.

Then I get to my favourite item. I begin wrapping it but then hesitate and carefully unwrap it again so I can hold it close one last time. I clutch the little shirt to my chest as though it can fill the hole that has been there for so long. It's a child's t-shirt, a replica of the cop uniform I remember hanging on the back of our bedroom door. I know Ethan had had one when he was 5 but I don't remember what happened to it so I searched long and hard online to find it again so that Freddie can have one too. I even paid the extortionate $80 handling fee to have it sent from Florida.

Eventually I'm done with wrapping and I carefully stash the gifts in an empty suitcase, lined with towels to protect the contents. The toys don't seem all that breakable but you never know. I take note in my mind of what I still need to pack in the morning – toothbrush, phone charger, tickets – and then settle in to bed.

But, an hour later, I'm still awake. I can't sleep, my anxiety and excitement stopping my mind from shutting off. I can't even take a sleeping pill because of the cocktail of anti-depressants and other medication I rely on to keep me sane.

I wonder whether Edward will be pleased to see me. A small part of me wonders whether he might have moved on. I couldn't blame him for that, I suppose, but I hope with all of my being that Edward has been as faithful as I have. My thoughts have never once strayed from him. Even if I do go through with giving him the divorce papers, I know that there will never be anyone else for me. I will be committing myself to the life of a spinster.

I'm not sure I can do it. I can't bear the thought of him loving someone else, being intimate with someone else. The idea of another woman taking the title of mother for Ethan, Sophie and Freddie makes me feel sick to my stomach even if I haven't been all that worthy of it myself.

But this is selfishness. I don't want them to move on. And yet it would probably be best for them if they did.

This is why I've been keeping them at a distance for a while. I need space to think the decision through logically, as unaffected by emotion as possible. I can't keep Edward on the hook just because I love him; it's cruel and unfair. I know this, logically. But whenever I speak to him, the thought of him being free from me – being divorced – is too painful to bear. So I need to keep my distance to keep my thoughts clear so that I make the right decision.

The thing is, it's been three months now and I still don't know what the right decision is. I'm not sure whether I ever will. So I'm giving up on my self-imposed rules and going home. I'm almost certain that this _isn't_ the right decision but it's got to be better than doing nothing… surely?

I look over at the photos on my bedside table again and one image in particular stands out to me. It's my favourite photo of our wedding day. It's a candid picture, we never posed for it. But the sun is setting behind us and Edward and I are gazing into each other's eyes, revelling in the fact that we're finally married for real. No more hula hoops or bagels or school projects. Real vows, a real marriage certificate and a real love that burned as strong as any other, maybe even more. We look so happy, overjoyed and completely, utterly in love. I remember the day as though it were yesterday.

I was so worried in the morning that I couldn't eat. There was a plate of finger sandwiches on the dining table, lovingly made by Esme, and I kept picking one up, taking one bite and then leaving it somewhere. I was still finding bits of sandwich around my house weeks after the wedding.

Even when the registrar had come to give the final interview, I was so nervous that I had forgotten my own name. Alice had giggled by my side in her deep blue dress and whispered, "Isabella Marie Swan," to help me out.

I feel equally as nervous now, perhaps even more. At least on our wedding day I'd been fairly positive that Edward would be there and be happy to see me walking down the aisle towards him. I'm not so certain he'll feel that way anymore.

I reach out for the wedding picture and hug it to my chest. To put off thoughts of the next twenty-four hours, I think back to our wedding day and let the memories overtake me as I drop off into the delightful oblivion of sleep.

When my alarm blares in the small hours of the morning, I don't rise bleary-eyed and miserable like every other day. For the first time in a long time, there's a bubble of excitement rising in my belly. I'm shocked to be able to identify the thrumming in my heart as hope.

I'm hopeful.

It's a strange day. I feel like I'm gliding, like I'm watching someone else check in at the airport with a smile. It's like I'm dreaming because this just isn't possible. When an old lady sitting next to me in the waiting area asks where I'm going, it feels like a lie when I say "home".

The six-and-a-half-hour flight feels like it takes forever. I try to focus on the in-flight movies but I can't and my knee jiggles nervously throughout. I eventually drop off to sleep at some point and catch up on some of the sleep I missed out on the night before.

When I get off the plane in Seattle just before two o'clock, it feels like another world. It's raining, of course, but I've never been so happy to see the miserable weather. I collect my luggage and head out to find my rental car.

I drive the roads back to Forks, following the signs but also following my instincts. It's dark by the time I reach Forks around four hours later, having stopped at a Drive-Thru McDonald's when hunger eventually kicked in after a whole day of eating nothing. My reasoning tells me that I'm going to the hotel first to freshen up. But I find myself following the familiar windy roads to the part of town that I know so well.

My heart pangs in my chest as I recognise my old haunts even through the dark. The lights are on at the police station and I wonder whether my dad is there. I doubt that Edward would be there and miss the twins' birthday because of work; he's the good parent. There's the little playpark where I used to take Ethan when he was small and, later, the twins. High school, where Edward and I first met all those years ago. The layby where I used to pick up Jacob for our lift share to college.

Jacob Black had lived in La Push, on the reservation, and was a few years younger than me. I'd met him in my first year of University in Port Angeles.

Although I was technically completing my Psychology degree from the University of Washington as an online course, they held some lectures at Peninsula College in Port Angeles and I liked to attend them when I could. This was where I met Jacob. He'd lived in La Push, on the reservation, and was a few years younger than me; the right age to attend college. He was taking similar online courses to me, unable to travel for college because he needed to stay home to care for his sick father, Billy. When I'd realised that Jacob couldn't drive and that he came almost as far as me for the lectures, I'd offered to give him a ride in exchange for cash for fuel. He got the bus over to Forks and I picked him up and took him the rest of the way. He had a ride and I got some company for the two-hour round trip I made once a fortnight and it kept fuel costs down. It worked well. With the exception of just one thing: Edward.

I frown over the steering wheel as I remember a particularly bad fight, one Valentine's Day…

* * *

 _ **14**_ _ **th**_ _ **February 2011**_

It's twenty minutes past eight when I pull up in front of our tiny house. The upstairs lights are off but the downstairs windows are bright with light. I cringe in the driver's seat and feel a pinprick of fear about going inside. I'd promised Edward that I'd be home by seven at the very latest and I'd be able to read the kids a story and say goodnight. And here I am, over an hour later. He'll be mad, I know it.

I get out of my truck with a resigned sigh and head up the path before unlocking the door and letting myself in.

A strange smell hits me almost immediately. The smell of burning.

I panic and rush into the kitchen but nothing's cooking or burning. I check the living room next, fearing that the TV may have burst into flames. But there's nothing. I glance over my shoulder and see Edward asleep on the couch. He's wearing the dark green shirt that brings out his eyes, my favourite. Then I finally see the source of the smell.

Our little dining table is fully set. The tablecloth that we never use adorns the table-top. There are two places set and a bottle of my favourite wine sits in the middle. On one side is a little pile of cards and even from here I can see one labelled 'Mommy' and another labelled 'Bella'. There are several candles on the table and all but one of them have burned out. One candle must have only just gone out as there is a stream of smoke pouring from it. And that's where the smell is coming from.

My heart aches as I see the trouble Edward and the kids have gone to just to surprise me.

"You're back." His voice startles me out of my trance.

I look over and blink the tears away from my eyes.

He's looking up at me from the sofa and his mouth is squashed into a thin line. He looks tired and, above all, angry. Furious, in fact.

"Edward, I'm sorry…"

He stands then and steps toward me. "Where were you?"

"There was an accident and the traffic…"

"You could have called," he spat, his eyes burning with his fury.

"I know but my phone died and Jacob…"

He turns away abruptly when I say Jacob's name and I notice that his fists are clenched. "What? What did _he_ do?"

"Edward," I whisper, hating the pain in his voice. I reach up and touch the back of his shoulder and it literally hurts me when he flinches away.

He rakes a hand through his hair and turns back to look at me. "What did he do?"

"I was just going to say that his phone is broken so I couldn't use his either," I say quietly.

"Is that really what happened, Bella?" he asks and there's a hint of sarcasm in his tone that makes me bristle; I know what he's alluding to.

"Of course it is," I respond indignantly. I shake my head at him a little. "Do you not trust me?"

His eyes flash again. "It's him I don't trust," he growls and his anger scares me a little.

"Edward, we've been through this." I brave his fury and step right up close to him so that I can reach out and touch his face. "I don't want him. I only want you, you know that." I frown. "And, besides, I have several guy friends; why are you so suspicious of Jacob?"

He shakes his head. "There's something about him, Bella. He's a bad guy."

"He is not. Don't be ridiculous. He's my friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

"That's not how he sees you," he says with a low voice.

"It is. I've told him we're friends and he knows that. He agrees with me."

Edward grabs at my left hand and holds it up. My diamond engagement ring glints in the light alongside my simple wedding band. "You're married," he whispers.

"I know. And I take my vows seriously, Edward." I turn my hand so that it's holding his. "I swear to you, there will never be anyone else."

He stares at me, right into my eyes, for what feels like forever. I'm beginning to wonder whether he'll ever speak again when a squeaking cry starts up from upstairs. I break his gaze and turn to go up the stairs but he brushes past me first to attend to whichever tiny, five-month-old baby is whinging.

"I've got it," he mutters.

When he's upstairs I walk over to the table and look at the two plates. He's eaten his but mine sits there untouched and stone cold. He's made a full roast dinner, complete with the very best leg of lamb and all the trimmings. I sit down in my chair and start crying. Big, heaving sobs tear from my body and my head falls into my hands.

This is the first time I feel like the crying will never, ever stop. The first time I feel like I am at the bottom of a dark pit and nothing in the world could reach me. The first time I feel my entire body thrum with a sadness so absolute that there is no room for anything else.

Little do I know, it will not be the last.

* * *

 _ **Friday 9**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 2016**_

I park my rental car a little way down the road from our house. The street is busy tonight; I'd rather park closer to make for a quicker escape route in case this goes spectacularly wrong but I can't.

I sit in the car for a long time, trying to build up the courage to go to the house and knock on the door I used to walk through. Eventually, I pull myself together and get out. My legs protest at standing after sitting for so long and I stretch my body out cautiously. It's absolutely chucking it down now and I lift my face up, relishing the feel of the rain on my cheeks. It's not that it doesn't rain in Massachusetts – it does – but the rain here seems different. Fresher, colder, cleaner.

I open up the trunk and transfer the birthday presents from the towel-lined suitcase into two huge carrier bags, inspecting each one as I do. None seem to have come to any harm so I breathe a sigh of relief and shut the trunk again. I square my shoulders, take a deep breath and then begin the walk to the house. My house.

I stand outside the door for another age, gathering the courage to ring the doorbell. It's new, the doorbell. The old one must have broken. I stare at the blackness behind the glass pane in the door and wonder what else has changed behind it.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and sigh out the huge breath I didn't realise I was holding. Then, my eyes still shut, I reach out and press the doorbell firmly. My muscles tense and I realise I'm in fight-or-flight mode, my whole body desperate to leave the bags on the doorstep and run. But I don't.

I close my eyes and count to ten to calm myself down. When there's still no answer, I keep counting.

I get to twenty-seven before a light flickers to life behind the glass and a figure comes into view as a silhouette.

I hope it's Edward.

I hope it's not.

The key jiggles in the lock and then the door swings open and it's him. It's really him. Here, in front of me, in the flesh. It feels as though every cell in my body has come back to life after a long hibernation. My heart soars with anticipation and my pulse roars in my ears and my breathing comes shallow and fast and makes me giddy.

Just looking at him brings tears to my eyes. He's still the same. He's still so utterly, devastatingly handsome and I still can't believe that he chose me. His reddish-brown hair is still as mad as ever, cowlicks reaching every which way and his eyes are an emerald green light, pulling me in like a moth. His jaw is just as chiselled as it's ever been and I can see the outline of thick, hard muscles under the thin material of his grey, long-sleeved top. The watch I bought him for his twenty-fourth birthday still sits on his wrist and even his fingers look just as I remember. It's a funny thing when you know a person so well that you've memorised the way their fingers look but that's how well I know Edward.

I know him well enough to notice the differences, too. There are subtle lines around his eyes that weren't there three years ago or noticeable in our Skype conversations. There are bags under his eyes that seem bigger than the suitcases in my boot and I wonder when he last had a good night's sleep. The green forests of his eyes that used to be so full of light and humour are now empty but also full of stress and misery. I ache, knowing that it's my fault; knowing that I have taken away the very essence of Edward.

The biggest difference, though, is in his expression. He doesn't look happy to see me. His jaw is completely slack, his eyes wide in astonishment and the corners of his mouth are downturned.

I want to throw myself into his arms and stay there forever. I want to kiss the shock and hurt away from his face. But I restrain myself, unsure how that kind of hello would be received. So, instead, I hold up the bags of presents and give him a tiny, encouraging smile. "Hi," I say quietly, knowing that there are thousands more words that need to be said but starting with just that one.

Edward's mouth opens and closes for a moment and then he closes his eyes, his brow furrowing and creasing in the middle. He shakes his head and takes a step backwards. And then he shuts the front door in my face.

* * *

 **I'm REALLY sorry for the cliffie! BUT PLEASE READ THIS NOTE!**

 **Firstly, and most importantly (because I know lots of you are going to worry about this): Bella is not going to cheat on Edward with Jacob in this story!** Not in the present story or in the flashbacks. He is going to be a minor character at best and there will be no relationship of ANY description between them beyond being friends. I promise. Bella and Edward have enough skeletons to deal with already without throwing that in as well.

 **Secondly,** I really want to answer the questions you ask when you review. I want to reply if I can. So please, **please log in when you post a review if you want me to answer your questions!**

 **Finally,** I really am sorry that this chapter has ended on such a mean cliffhanger. To prove to you how sorry I am, **I'm going to update on Friday**. That's two days away, yay!

 **Finally for real,** I'm quite nervous about this one so **please be gentle**!

See you Friday,

Steph xo


	5. Chapter 5

_The anticipation before the kiss_

 _Mirrored in my shaking lips_

 _Oh god I feel so unprepared_

 _The two of us so out of place_

 _My feelings written on my face_

 _Got what I want but now I'm scared_

 _What if we ruin it all?_

 _And we love like fools and all we have we'll lose_

 _I don't want you to go but I want you so_

 _So tell me what we choose_

 _ **-Fools, Lauren Aqulina**_

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **Edward POV**

It's Friday 9th September. My day off. And, more importantly, the twins' sixth birthday.

I'm sitting with Alice in a café sipping coffee and awaiting our toasted sandwiches. We've been shopping for presents and bits and bobs for the birthday celebrations. We're having a small family get together at my house this evening which my parents, Alice, Jasper and Noah, Emmett, Rose and their girls and Charlie are attending. Yeah, small.

Then, tomorrow, the twins are having their 'proper' party at the local community centre. It's a princesses and cops themed party with a couple of games and party food; nothing fancy but Alice insisted on helping out all the same. She claims to be the family expert on party planning as she "helps to plan _so_ many weddings!" In reality, she's a freelance make-up artist so all she actually does is turn up to the weddings and, really, she has very little hand in planning. However, I'm grateful for the help so I don't bring this up.

So, now, it's around midday and we're loaded down with tons of bags already full of party bag fillers and paper plates and Alice even insisted on buying a unicorn piñata. It's on shopping trips like these that having a pram comes in handy for stashing the stuff so it's lucky that Alice has brought along her son, Noah. He was born late in July and was a bit of a surprise for Alice and Jasper, both of whom were still focussing on their careers. Alice wanted to progress her make-up business into an international brand and Jasper is climbing the ladder in marketing; turns out he has a knack for producing really good advertisements that really influence peoples' buying habits. Alice has since said to me that Noah has thrown their lives into "utter chaos" but then I catch her looking at her infant son with such an abundance of love and I know that my sister has never been happier.

"So…" Alice says as she puts her coffee cup down. Her tone of voice and the inquisitive way she looks at me has me instantly worried. "You never told me that the twins' teacher is Jessica Stanley?"

I'd had the early shift at work the day before and so had dropped the twins at Alice's at dawn after she'd offered to drop them at school. I hadn't thought to mention the Jessica thing. I sigh. "Yeah, she is. Did she recognise you?"

"Of course she did. If only just because I was dropping off _your_ kids. She seems… nice," she says after a pause, lifting her eyebrows at me. "Nicer than she ever was at high school anyway." She lifts her cup again and sips at it innocently. Too innocently.

"And what of it?" I ask, suspicious.

"Nothing, nothing. She just seems nice, now. I think she's single." She points to the ring on her own finger and whispers, "No ring."

"She does seem nice," I agree honestly, "but I'm not sure what you're implying, Alice."

She feigns indignance. "Why do I have to be implying something? I'm just making conversation."

"Sure. So how's Jasper?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "Ugh, fine. I'm implying that she's nice and seemed interested in you. She asked after you. She was concerned that you were ill and asked why you weren't doing the school run."

"Huh." I put down my sandwich and put my hand to my chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "That sounds awfully nice of her to be concerned. And she's interested in me you say? Gosh, how wonderful! Let me skip through the daisies and go to her side to profess my undying love."

"Alright, don't be a dick."

"No, Alice, don't you be a dick. I'm married."

"To a ghost," she mutters bitterly, looking away.

I slam my hand down on the table. "I knew it! I knew where you were going with this. Stop it." I point my finger at her. "Stop this right now. Whether Bella is here or not, we are still married and committed. I'm not going to cheat on her, not now, not ever. Nothing's going to happen with Jessica."

"But if…"

"But nothing," I growl. "Even if I wasn't married, I wouldn't be interested in Jessica Stanley. Got it?"

"Fine, fine," she sighs. "But you should really tell her that. She seems pretty taken."

"Alice, I've spoken to the girl once."

She shrugs. "Sometimes that's all it takes."

I groan. "Alice…"

"Alright! I'll shut up."

"Thank you." I pause for a moment to eat my sandwich and then I add, "You know, considering you were Bella's maid of honour, you aren't being awfully supportive of her marriage."

"Well… things change. Considering she vowed to stay with you for better or for worse, I wouldn't say she's fulfilling the contract of her marriage."

"We're still married so the contract is unbroken."

"Yeah," Alice says with a sad smile. "But things change."

I'm about to demand what she means by that but then Noah starts crying and Alice's attention is focussed solely on the infant. I watch her scoop him up, totally dedicated to his every need. Bella used to be like that. There was a time when nothing would come above the needs of her children. But Alice was right. Things change. I just wish I knew _what_ had changed.

Our toasted sandwiches arrive then and I take a bite even though it's clearly too hot. I can feel the scowl is still present on my face. Alice settles Noah in to feed and I avert my eyes. I tell myself it's out of politeness but it's maybe also a bit from awkwardness, too. I mean, she _is_ my sister.

Once the baby is settled and we're focussed on our lunch again, Alice turns to me. "Are Emmett and Rose coming this evening?"

I nod.

"Are they coming to the party tomorrow as well?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course. You think Sophie would let me get away with not inviting her cousins to her birthday party? She adores those girls." And it's true. Sophie idolises Em and Rose's two older daughters, Elodie and Olivia, and loves doting on two-year-old Phoebe.

Alice chuckles. "True. You know, Edward," she says with humour in her eyes, "sometimes I think that Sophie actually wears the pants in your household."

I laugh, too. "She certainly seems to think she's the boss."

We pause for a moment to chew our sandwiches. Then Alice frowns seriously. "How's Ethan? I know you were worried about him the other day."

I sigh again and put my sandwich down. "I don't know," I admit. "I'm having a bit of trouble with him." I explain what happened on Wednesday morning when he walked off to school without me.

Alice is surprised. "That's not like Ethan at all! What did you do?"

"Well, I spoke to him, obviously."

"And?"

I frowned, recalling the events of Wednesday evening. I'd been totally exhausted but after the twins had gone to bed, I'd braced myself to have a serious talk with Ethan. However, before our conversation, I'd checked in his bookbag and found a letter from his teacher. Its contents had surprised me and not in a good way.

* * *

 **Wednesday 7** **th** **September**

 _Dear Parent/ Guardian of Ethan Cullen,_

 _I am sorry to inform you that Ethan was kept in during lunch break today to complete his homework assignment. Please ensure that all homework assignments are completed on time and brought to school. It is essential that students put aside enough time to complete these assignments as they greatly aid the work we carry out in the classroom and the completion of these tasks will be vital for Ethan to pass fourth grade._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Claire Hudson_

I'm flabbergasted at the letter. In all his four years of schooling, Ethan has never put a toe out of line. His reports are always spotless and each of his previous teachers have commented that he is a joy to teach. I've never had a letter home before and I know that this can't mean anything good after his answering back this morning. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, adding it to the list of things I'll have to talk to Ethan about.

I stash the letter with my paperwork, grab a beer from the fridge and return to the living room to relax for a while before Ethan comes down from his room and I have to confront his behaviour. I don't have to wait for very long before the door opens and he sticks his head in. He looks nervous and edgy, as though he's worried I'm about to bite his head off. Maybe I am.

"Hey Dad," he says uneasily.

"Hey," I reply, nodding at the couch beside me. "Come sit down. I think we need to have a chat."

He keeps his head down but comes and sits next to me.

"Ethan…" I start but he cuts me off.

"I'm sorry, Dad!" he exclaims and starts to cry. "I'm really sorry. For what I said this morning."

"Come here." I hold my arms out to him and hold him close to me. "Thank you for apologising but, Ethan, you cannot behave like that again. It sets a terrible example for Sophie and Freddie and you could really upset them with talk like that."

"I know," he whispers into my shoulder.

"You know it's your job as the big brother to show them how to behave. It always has been."

He scowls a little. "I don't really want that job anymore."

"I know it's hard but it's a great responsibility to have. They look up to you and they love you a great deal. I'm afraid it comes with being the oldest. There are some perks, though."

"What?" Ethan settles back on his own side of the sofa and looks at me.

"Well… Sophie and Freddie have never stayed up until eleven o'clock watching movies and eating popcorn, have they?"

Ethan tries to hold his scowl but I can see the beginnings of a smile in his lips. "No."

"And when there's a spare sausage at dinner time, who gets it?"

"Me," he admits and the scowl recedes bit by bit.

"You'll be the first to do all the cool things, too. I was so jealous when Grandpa and MayMay bought Uncle Emmett a car first but that's just one of the perks of being the biggest."

Ethan grins now. "Will you buy me a car, Dad?"

Oh no. "One day, maybe. When you can drive." I pause and run my hand through my hair. "But there are drawbacks to being the eldest, too."

"Like being the role model," he mutters, his scowl edging back.

"Yes. And taking responsibility." I sigh. "Ethan, I saw the letter in your bookbag."

He looks away.

"Why were you kept in at lunchtime? You always do your homework."

"Dad, it was unfair!" he exclaims, suddenly defensive. "It's only the second day of school and I thought I had more time!"

"I'm sure the teacher would have told you when it needed to be handed in," I say firmly. If I know anything about kids, it's that sometimes you have to show your authority early on to gain their respect. When I have to visit juvie for my job, I know that I act tough right off the bat to keep them in line and perhaps this is Ethan's teacher's way of doing the same thing.

"No!" he insists. "She didn't! And a ton of other kids didn't do their homework either but I was the only one that was kept in."

My brow furrows as I wonder at the truth of Ethan's words. He's never lied to me before (that I'm aware of, anyway) but I simply don't believe that the teacher would keep in one child for an offense committed by many. "That doesn't sound right," I admit out loud. "I'll talk to her and find out if there was some kind of misunderstanding. But I want you on your best behaviour, okay? Do you have any homework tonight?"

"No," he says, "just spelling practice and I already did that."

"Do you want to practice with me?" I offer, though I hate spelling myself.

"Nah," he replies and I don't push it.

I hesitate, not wanting to get too touchy-feely, but then I ask, "Are you okay, son?"

"What do you mean?"

"All this talk about… about your mom. Is something bothering you?"

Ethan shakes his head but doesn't meet my gaze.

"You know if you're worried about anything you can talk to me, right?"

"I know." He looks back up at me and smiles slightly. "I know, Dad, I'm fine."

I'm not entirely convinced but I know that I can't push it. If he wants to tell me, he'll tell me. "Okay," I say. "Wanna play a game?" And that's the end of that.

* * *

Once I've told Alice about our conversation, she frowns.

"You think something's up with him?" I ask her.

"Maybe," she admits. "I wonder why now, what's triggered this behaviour in him now."

"Bella did leave around this time three years ago," I say quietly. "But he's too young to remember exact dates, right?"

She shrugs. "I'm not sure." She's burping Noah now, holding him carefully over her shoulder. "Possibly. If you want I can talk to him? In case there's something he just doesn't want to tell you."

"What wouldn't he want to tell me?"

Alice smiles. "I don't know but you are his dad. Kids don't always want to talk to their parents about shit…" She looks alarmed suddenly and covers Noah's little ears. "I mean… stuff. You should know that better than anyone, Eddie boy."

I pull a face at the name but concede to her point. There was a lot I had never wanted to tell my parents as a kid. That kid who threw bricks through teachers' car windows seems like a distant memory now. "But why would he want to tell his annoying, interfering aunt anything?" I tease.

"Because his annoying, interfering aunt is a wonderful person who gives fantastic advice and won't squeal on him to his strict and horrible father."

I raise an eyebrow at her like she's a child. "You'd better tell me what he says."

"If he says anything."

"Promise?"

She sighs. "I can't betray his trust any more than I could betray yours. But, yes. If it's important for you to know, I promise I'll tell you."

It's a half-promise and we both know it. But I nod and say, "Thanks, Alice."

We finish our lunch shortly after and then continue our shopping before heading home to wrap the few last-minute gifts and prepare for the evening party. I'm disappointed when I realise that there haven't been any presents delivered – any presents from Bella. She always sends presents for birthdays and they always arrive in plenty of time, perfectly wrapped and ready for the day. We always discuss what the kids will want and make sure to get them things that they both want and need and all their gifts are from both of us. But this year, there's nothing. I haven't even spoken to her about it.

A couple of hours later, when we pick the kids up from school, I'm delighted to see Freddie come out with a smile on his face. The smile might have something to do with the fistful of sweets he has in each hand but it's certainly a step in the right direction. Jessica smiles at me from the door but another mom goes over and catches her attention and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Hi Princess Elsa!" Alice greets Sophie as she comes rushing over. She's still clutching her fairy wand although her other hand is also full of sticky-looking sweets.

"Hi Aunt Alice," Sophie says sweetly before standing on tiptoes to peer into the pram. Noticing that Noah's sleeping, she turns her voice down to a whisper before adding, "Hi baby Noah."

Meanwhile, Freddie has attached himself to my leg again. "Daddy!"

"Hey, buddy! Happy birthday, both of you!" I bend down and give them each a squeeze with each arm. "Have you had a good day?"

"Oh, _yes_ , Dad," Sophie says earnestly. "We played party games this afternoon and I _won_ musical statues."

Freddie scowls at her. "Only a'cos you cheated."

She crosses her arms and sticks her tongue out. "I did not."

"Did too."

"Alright, kids," I say loudly, interrupting their bickering. "Let's go get Ethan and then home for party and…" I pause for dramatic effect.

"Presents!" the twins chorus. They look at each other excitedly, their disagreement already forgotten.

We walk round to the fourth-grade classroom and Ethan comes right out to meet us. His usual teacher isn't there and I'm glad because it means I don't have to try to catch her attention to ask about the homework debacle. Ethan doesn't seem to mind and he, too, looks happier than usual as he hugs Sophie and Freddie and wishes them a happy birthday. The twins' happiness is contagious and we chat and laugh all the way home.

Sophie and Freddie are thrilled to see the table all set up for the evening party and even more excited when they see that there are more presents waiting for them.

My parents are the first guests to arrive and they bring Sophie's big present so we don't make the poor kids wait any longer to open their best presents. Freddie is over the moon with his ride-on car and Sophie receives Alice's old dolls house from when we were kids. My father has been tinkering with it for months to upgrade it to a princess castle complete with turrets and a drawbridge and Sophie is practically vibrating with excitement.

Sophie instantly enlists Alice's help playing and Ethan wheels Freddie around on his car. Jasper arrives shortly after, followed by Emmett, Rose and their three girls. Soon enough all the girls are crowded round the doll house and Emmett and Jasper are busy admiring the 'specs' of Freddie's new toy car with the boys. Mom, Rosalie and Alice are gossiping like old ladies and cooing over baby Noah.

I can't help but smile as I watch them. My whole family has found happiness and I'm so glad for them all.

My father suddenly appears beside me, holding out a chilled beer. "Here, you probably need this," he says with a smile.

"Thanks," I reply.

We stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching our family. "You know, Edward, I never say it often enough but… your mother and I, we're so proud of you."

I turn to him, surprised, because it's not like Carlisle to be so emotional. "Thanks, Dad."

"Those kids have a great life, thanks to you. I know that none of us were thrilled when you told us Bella was expecting Ethan at seventeen but you're a great dad. They're lucky to have you."

I take a sip of my beer to try to clear the lump in my throat and then grin at him. "Almost as lucky as I was to have you."

He laughs, long and loud. "You ass kisser," he teases.

The doorbell rings then and I hand my beer to my dad.

"Is that Charlie?"

"No, can't be. He's not coming until after his shift finishes at seven. Could it be the postman this late?" I ask, still hoping that Bella might come through on the present front after all.

Dad shrugs. "Maybe."

"I'll be right back." I leave the living room buzzing with noise and head to the front door. I can hear the rain pattering on the roof out here, as usual.

I flick on the hall light and unlock the door but nothing could have possibly prepared me for the person that is waiting on the other side.

She smiles up at me shyly and my heart races. She's as devastatingly beautiful as she always has been: wide, innocent dark eyes; flushed cheeks on peaches and cream skin; full, soft lips that just beg to be kissed.

She holds up two big bags full of presents and gives me a small smile. "Hi."

I stare at her for a moment and I truly have no idea what my next movement will be. I could just as easily grab a knife from the kitchen and stab her through the heart as I could scoop her up and kiss her until neither one of us can breathe.

But, instead, I take a step back and slam the door shut in her face.

I lean against the door handle because I'm not sure I'll be able to stand otherwise. How many times have I imagined this exact scenario? How many times have I prayed that it's her, finally coming home to me? How many times have I envisioned opening that door, taking her into my arms and holding her close so that she never leaves again?

Hundreds, thousands… maybe millions. Countless times I have wished for this. For _her_. But now she's here and words have completely evaded me. I don't know what to say or what to do. I've just closed the door on her, for God's sake! I lift my hand from the handle and turn away. Then I turn back.

A burst of laughter sounds from the living room and I turn to go back to my family; the family that is still here. But she's pulling me back as though we're tethered together. I turn back again, both of my hands raking through my hair.

Then, I take a deep breath and I open the door again.

She's still there, watching me with wide, wary eyes. "I can… go?" she says and her tone voices it like a question and I want to break down in tears and fall to my knees at her feet. She's still here, she's still goddamn here and I don't want her to go. I never want her to go again.

"Hell no," I whisper and my voice is hoarse and thick. I step out towards her and my hands reach for her of their own accord. I grab hold of her wrist with one of my hands and pull her even closer while my other hand goes up to cup her chin. I tilt her head up so that she's looking me in the eye and then I bend my head and capture her lips with mine and it feels like coming home.

She sighs and relaxes against me and I hear the bags she was holding drop to the floor. A second later I can feel one of her hands snake around my waist and the other bury itself in my hair, holding my head close to hers. Our lips move together fluidly; we are learning each other all over again and, though I've never forgotten how incredible it felt to be together this way, it also feels better than I remember. My hand graduates up from her wrist to wrap around her middle and hold her close. She's thinner than I remember but she's still my Bella and always, always perfect.

Her tongue traces delicately across my bottom lip and I shiver at the sensation, pulling her closer still. I part my lips so that our tongues tangle and the taste of her is better than water after a full day of thirst. It's then that she moans into my mouth and I remember where we are.

I lift my head away from her unwillingly and open my eyes as she does. I stare into the deep expanse of chocolate brown and search desperately for answers but find nothing. I can see that we will have to do this the hard way. But what's new there?

I reach behind me to pull the door shut and we stand silently together on the porch. Eventually, I say, "What… what are you doing here?"

She looks down and her voice is quiet when she answers. "I brought the twins their birthday presents."

"But… what?" I reach up and brush my hand through my hair. There are so many questions tripping over themselves to get to my mouth. "What are you doing _here_ here? In Forks? Home? Why? Why now?"

She bites her lip nervously. I've missed that old habit. "I… I gave in my thesis on Wednesday. And… it seemed right. And… well, Edward, I need to talk to you." Suddenly tears start falling down her cheeks thick and fast. "I miss you."

"Fuck, Bella, I miss you too but a call would have been nice! Just a little bit of warning…"

She opens her mouth to reply but a noise from behind me freezes both of us in our tracks.

"Daddy?" It's Sophie calling from inside the house.

Bella's shocked eyes are staring right at me but then they break away from me. Her gaze drops behind me to the front door.

I turn and step closer to the house, shielding the door from Bella's view. I don't know what her intentions are yet so my instincts are to protect Sophie. I reach for the door handle just as it begins to open. Sophie opens the door a small crack and peers out at me. "Daddy?" she asks, confusion colouring her voice. "What are you doing outside?"

"Nothing, Soph. I…" I fumble for an answer. "I'm just looking for more presents."

She laughs, finding this uproariously funny. "You're so silly, Daddy! Presents go inside."

"Oh no, you're right!" I exclaim. I can hear the edge of panic in my voice and I pray that she can't. "Tell you what, you go on back inside and I'll be there in a second with a special surprise. Don't let anyone else come and find me; it's a surprise, okay?"

She nods, intrigued by the idea of a surprise. "Okay," she agrees and then scurries back inside.

I sigh. Great. Now I've got to come up with a surprise. I turn back around to see Bella in floods of silent tears. "Bella?" I ask, concerned.

She shakes her head at me. "I… I've missed so much. She's so grown up."

I watch her and say nothing. I can't deny her words. It's true, she has missed so much.

After a short pause, she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. She takes a deep breath and then she says, "Can… can I… Edward, can I see them?"

I don't know how to answer her question so, instead, I ask one of my own. "Are you staying?"

She pauses for a moment. She looks down the street and then back at me. "Yes," she whispers eventually.

"For good?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her in question.

Her eyes flicker down to the ground and then back up. "I… I don't know…"

"Then no," I say flatly, without hesitation.

"What?"

"You can't see them. Not if you're not sticking around. Forever, Bella. They need forever." I hesitate before adding, "And so do I."

She bites her lip again but nods. "That's fair," she says and her voice is small, like a child being punished.

"So will you stay?"

"Can we talk?" she asks abruptly, avoiding my question.

"Well, not now." I gesture to the bags of presents on the ground, reminding her of the occasion.

"I know not now but… sometime? Just the two of us?"

I look at her. God, I have missed her. My heart aches to have her, to invite her inside and to hold her close and never let her go. But I can't think of just me. I have to think of Ethan, Sophie and Freddie, even if she doesn't. And I can't let her sweep back into their lives only to let them down and pull a fast one again. "Maybe," I say because that's all I can promise.

She nods. "Maybe. Okay." She smiles at me slightly. "That's better than a no."

"So will you stay?" I ask again and I know what I want the answer to be.

A real smile lights her face, almost reaching her eyes. "Maybe."

I grin back, delighted that she's playing along. "That's better than a no."

She picks up the bags off the floor and passes them to me. "Make sure they get these." She stands on her tiptoes and softly presses her lips to my cheek. "Goodbye, Edward." She turns away but I reach out and grab her wrist.

"No." I pull her back slightly and then lean down to place a quick and gentle kiss on her lips. "This isn't goodbye. See you later."

Her hand raises to touch her lips like a love-struck teenager. I don't know whether she even realises she's doing it. "Yes," she says breathily. "See you later." And then she turns and walks off back down the street.

I watch her go for a brief moment and I pray that, this time, later isn't quite so long.

* * *

 **I really hope that you liked this one, I know I liked writing it! It feels a bit more hopeful and a bit less depressing than the last few. I hope that Edward and Bella's reunion was a satisfying one, given the circumstances!**

 **Please let me know what you think :)**

 **Steph xo**


	6. Chapter 6

_It don't make sense but nevertheless  
You gotta believe us, it's all for the best  
It don't make sense, it don't add up  
But we'll always love you no matter what_

 _Sometimes moms and dads fall out of love  
Sometimes two homes are better than one  
Some things you can't tell your sister 'cause she's still too young  
Yeah you'll understand  
When you love someone_

 _ **-When You Love Someone, James TW**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Edward POV**

The last time I was in this living room was only ten or fifteen minutes ago but it feels like a whole lifetime ago now. Just a short while ago, I was struggling to find a shred of hope – but now my heart is full of it. Clearly, there's a lot that Bella and I need to talk about but, for now, just knowing that she's here, on the right side of the country, is enough.

As I walk back into the living room with the two bags of presents, I'm met by an entire room of curious eyes. I hold out the bags. "Surprise!"

Sophie jumps up with glee. "There _were_ presents outside! Oh my gosh, Daddy, you're so clever!"

Freddie rushes over, too. "Presents!"

I hand over the bags and grin at the two of them but my grin subsides when I look up and see Alice's suspicious gaze. She comes to my side. "Presents?" she asks quietly. "That's your surprise?"

"Uh, yeah. They were upstairs." I decide to add an element of truth to make my story credible so I lean closer and whisper, "They're from Bella."

"Who was at the door?"

"No one." Come on, brain, help me out. "Just a neighbour. She wanted to wish the twins a happy birthday."

"Didn't you invite her in?"

"Oh no, she couldn't."

Alice raises one brow at me and I feel the full force of the bitch brow. "Really? So she came round to say happy birthday though she knew she couldn't stay long enough to pass on the message in person?"

"Well…" Dammit Alice. "Yeah. She's got a… sick… husband. He's in the hospital, she had to go there to visit him and thought she'd pop by on her way."

Alice looks like she wants to laugh at me. "Sure, brother." She smirks at me instead. "I'm so on to you." Then she walks away back to Jasper, cooing at Noah as she takes him back into her arms.

I can't help but think that Alice isn't really on to me at all. Partly because I barely believe it myself and partly because she wouldn't be so damn happy if she knew the truth of what just happened outside.

I glance around the room to see that most of my family have turned their attention back to the twins who have started their next session of unwrapping. Everyone except for my father, who is watching me pensively. When I catch his eye, he smiles at me and raises an eyebrow in question.

I nod, silently telling him that I'm fine but inside I'm wondering how much he's deducing. My father is a smart man, after all.

Suddenly, Sophie shrieks loudly from the floor. "Oh my gosh! Look, Daddy, a puppy!"

A delighted gasp follows shortly after from beside her. "Daddy!" Freddie yells and I'm not sure I've ever heard the quieter twin shout so loud.

I go over and crouch down beside them to look at their new gifts.

Freddie turns to me and there's a bright light in his eyes as he holds a piece of cloth at me. "It's my t-shirt," he shouts.

"What?" I unfold the little t-shirt and, sure enough, it's an exact duplicate of the replica cop uniform that Freddie won't ever take off.

"My p'lice t-shirt!" Freddie finds this endlessly hilarious as he shows everyone that he's wearing the t-shirt that he just unwrapped. Then, he takes it back off me and pulls it over his head. It's a size bigger, the new shirt, and a little too big but I know that he'll grow into it.

I turn to Sophie to see her holding a boxed cuddly toy. "What's that, Soph?" I ask.

"It's a puppy, Daddy!"

"Oh, wow!" I enthuse. "Do you need some help getting the box open?"

"Yes, please," she says politely and I go to the kitchen to fetch some scissors. I can't wipe the smile off my face; maybe Bella knows these kids better than I thought.

When I return to the lounge to cut the plastic ties on the toy dog, Sophie puts her arms right the way around my neck. "Thank you, Daddy," she whispers in my ear.

I hug her back. "Thank you for being so polite, Soph, but these aren't from me," I say quietly. I glance over my shoulder to see that Rose and Alice are chatting quietly amongst themselves while my parents are gushing over Freddie's new shirt. Jasper, Emmett and Ethan have, surprisingly, left the toy police car in favour of the doll house and Emmett is performing a fist fight in the bathroom between the two child dolls, much to Ethan, Elodie and Olivia's delight.

"Oh," Sophie says, a little put out. "Are they from Santa?"

I laugh a little. "No, honey. They're from Mommy."

Her dark eyes widen a little and I feel my heart swell, remembering the identical pair I'd just come face to face with on the porch. Then, Sophie's brow furrows a little. "Mommy sent presents for our birthday?" she asks.

"Of course she did. She loves you and Freddie – and Ethan – very much. She wouldn't forget your birthday."

Sophie beams at me. "Well, then I love Mommy."

And it really is that simple in her world. One good birthday present and she's won over. I only wish it could be that easy for me to sort out my complex emotions.

The rest of the evening goes down a treat. Charlie arrives at seven thirty with an armful of pizzas for dinner and, of course, more gifts for my incredibly spoilt children. The kids have a blast playing with all the new toys and the adults drink entirely too much wine. Our guests eventually leave just after ten o'clock and I hurry the children to bed. They are too tired to put up much of a fight and so I've tucked the twins in and am going to say goodnight to Ethan in next to no time. He's put himself into bed already and is sitting up with a book in hand.

"You alright, Ethan?" I come and sit beside him on the bed, ruffling his rust-coloured hair.

He gently pushes me away, rolling his eyes. "Yeah," he says.

"Did you have a good evening?"

"Yeah, it was okay. Elodie and Livvy are kind of annoying."

"You do a good job of looking after them all, though. I know Olivia is particularly taken with you. You gonna help me out with all the little kids at the party tomorrow?"

"Do I have a choice?" he quips with a cheeky grin.

"I suppose not."

"Yeah, I'll help. I want to play the piñata."

"How do you know about the piñata?"

He laughs. "Alice told me."

"Of course she did."

Suddenly Ethan's smile falls and his eyes narrow suspiciously. "Did you ask her to talk to me?"

I decide to play the innocent game. "What do you mean?"

"Aunt Alice. She was all asking me questions and saying that if I'm angry or upset at Mom then that's okay…"

"She said that?"

Ethan frowns. "Yeah. I kinda thought that you wanted her to say that. Because you keep trying to talk to me about it. About her."

"I didn't ask her to say that," I tell him honestly. There's a pause and then I ask, " _Are_ you angry or upset?"

Ethan just shrugs. "I don't know." He hesitates and then says, "I don't think about Mom all that much. Is that bad?"

I reach out and pat his knee. "No, not bad. She's not here, you don't have to think about her all the time."

"I do think about her sometimes," he admits quietly.

"That's okay, too," I say. "I think about her a lot."

"I know." There's another long pause. Then, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Mom gonna get divorced?"

It's a question I sometimes ask myself so I know I can't give him an outright no, despite the new and delicate feeling of hope in my chest. "What makes you think that?"

"Seth, my friend… his mom and dad lived in different houses for all of third grade and now they're getting divorced. He's gonna have to go and live with his dad at weekends but he doesn't really like his dad." Ethan frowns. "I don't really want to go and live with Mom at the weekends. I like it here with you."

I squeeze my eyes shut and struggle to find the words to explain something I don't understand myself. Eventually I sigh. "Your mom… she loves you all so much – and me – but she can't be here right now. Maybe… maybe she'll come back soon. Maybe sooner than you think."

"But I won't have to go away from you will I, Dad?" he asks quietly and his voice quivers a little.

"Never," I promise him and there's an intensity in my voice that scares me slightly. This time I reach out and pull him into a hug. "Ethan, you will _never_ have to leave if that's not what you want. I love you and I will never leave you, Sophie or Freddie. Never, ever."

He nods against my chest and I feel him relax slightly. "Okay. I love you, too, Dad."

We hug for a couple of minutes and I wonder whether this is what's been bothering him. I'm glad Alice spoke to him; even if she said all the wrong things, at least she's sent him back into my arms.

Once I've said goodnight to Ethan and tidied up downstairs, I head to bed myself, keen to get as much sleep as I can before the hectic day ahead of me tomorrow. But when I'm in bed, I find that there's something I want to do more than sleep.

I pick up my phone from the dresser beside me and go to my recent calls, hitting send on the name that has my heart racing before the ringing even starts.

It rings for a while and I begin to feel disheartened, thinking that she's not going to answer. Then: "'Ello?" she answers and her voice is thick and groggy.

"I'm so sorry, did I wake you?" I whisper into the phone. "I'll let you go back to sleep. Sorry."

"No!" Her voice is a little clearer now and I find myself smiling at the sound of her voice. "No, it's fine. I'm up now."

I lie back on my pillows and grin at the ceiling. "You answered," I say, stupidly.

"Well… yeah." She's quiet for a moment and then she says, "I guess I don't want to hide anymore."

"I'm so fucking glad to hear that."

"Language, Mr Cullen," she scolds with a laugh.

"I miss you, Mrs Cullen," I respond, ignoring her admonishment.

"I miss you, too. Um… thank you for opening the door again."

"Thank you for being on the other side."

Suddenly, I can hear a smile in her voice. "Thank you for kissing me."

I laugh and it's a real laugh and it feels so good. "Thank you for kissing me back."

"Edward?" she says and she's serious again now. "Truly, thank you for everything."

"Well… you're welcome, I guess."

She pauses and when she speaks again her voice is quiet and nervous. "Did… did they like their birthday presents?"

"God, Bella, they loved them. How did you know about the t-shirt?"

I hear her breathe a sigh of relief. "I remembered…" she says slowly, "I knew that Ethan used to have one just like it so I figured it was only fair that Freddie had one too."

"He already has one," I tell her with a smile. "He has Ethan's."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," she says hurriedly and I can hear the genuine hurt in her voice.

"No, no! That's not what I meant. He wears Ethan's but he never takes it off. He won't wear anything else. It's amazing to have another one because now he won't have to smell all the time."

Bella laughs then and it's a sound I've missed. "Oh, well… good."

There's a question I want to ask her but, also, I don't want to ask her. I steel myself, ready for the worst response, and then I man-up and ask, "Bella… where are you?"

"I'm still here," she says softly. "In Forks."

I exhale heavily. "Good." I pause and then add, "Where are you staying?"

"The motel."

"Oh. Okay." I feel relieved and I can't quite put my finger on why. Relieved that she's still here, sure, but there's something else. Am I relieved that she's alone? "Is it nice?"

"Yeah," she says but she sounds disappointed. "It's not as bad as we always thought it would be. It's basic but, you know, clean. The bed's alright."

"Good, good," I say and then I'm at a loss for words. It's an odd conversation, so personal and so formal at the same time. I know we're only talking about the quality of her motel to avoid talking about anything more substantial but I don't care; it's nice to talk to her at all. But I do need answers. If not for me then for Ethan. And for Sophie and Freddie, too. "Are you free on Monday?" I ask though I'm almost certain she will be.

"Of course," she says, sounding a little startled. "Edward, I'm always free for you."

"That's not how it's felt for the last three months," I reply icily. "Hell, the last three years!" I didn't mean for it to come out like that but I can't help it. I take a breath and calm my wild emotions. I automatically want to apologise but I refrain. I'm not the one in the wrong here.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"I know." I sigh. "Look, I think you're right. We need to talk. Alone."

"We do. What time on Monday?"

"I don't know… ten o'clock?" I want to suggest meeting at a café or somewhere a bit more neutral than the home we used to share but I know Forks and I know that if anyone recognises Bella, it won't take long for the gossip to spread. So I add, "Um… you can come here."

"Okay," she murmurs.

"Okay." Here would be the perfect place to end the conversation but I don't want it to end. But I also don't want to talk about anything that's going to upset both of us. So, instead, I say, "You know Sophie has named her puppy Cookie."

Bella chuckles through the phone. "Does she really like it?"

"Of course she does. It's the closest thing she's going to get to a real puppy anytime soon."

"She still wants a pet, huh?"

"Most definitely." I launch into a story about when Sophie had recently brought her pet slug, Slimy, into bed with her so that it didn't get lonely. Of course, this ended in disaster when Slimy 'escaped' and ended up squished between Ethan's toes the next morning.

Bella's laughing hysterically by the time I finish telling the story. Her laughter warms my heart and I'm spurred on to tell her more stories about the kids being kids. The last thing I remember before I slip off to sleep is her hiccupping down the line, caught between giggling at my stories and crying about how much she misses us.

* * *

I'm awoken the next morning by someone intrusively tapping me on my forehead. My eyes open wearily and I look over. Ethan's standing beside me and he's holding the landline phone out to me. "It's MayMay," he says. "She wants to know when you're getting to the party hall."

I look over at the clock and see that it's ten o'clock. I gasp and sit up so fast I get a head rush. How have I slept so late? I take the phone from Ethan and thank him before holding it to my face, "Mom?"

She laughs lightly. "Edward, hi. Ethan said you're still in bed?"

I groan. "Yeah, I don't know what happened! My alarm must have not gone off. God, I've got so much to do…"

"Edward, don't you worry one bit. I'll be right over. I'm glad you got some sleep and the kids didn't wake you."

Oh, God. The kids… What on earth are they doing if not waking me up? "Sure, great, okay. Thanks, Mom!" I say and then hang up. I look at my dresser, searching frantically for my cell phone and then I catch sight of it on the bed beside me and groan again. Of course. I must have fallen asleep talking to Bella and forgotten to plug it in to charge. The stupid thing's died on me – that's why my alarm never sounded.

I get out of bed and hurry downstairs, sure that the kids must be up to something really naughty if they've been occupied this long without waking me. I go into the living room, half expecting a small fire to be raging. But there's nothing. Everything seems fine.

The TV's blaring out 'Let It Go' and all three kids are sitting by the new doll house, playing an elaborate pretend game. Sophie's wearing her new Frozen dressing gown and the new slippers she got from Alice and Jasper. Freddie's back in his favourite t-shirt and nothing else. There are three paper plates on the floor with a brown mush on them.

"Uh… morning," I say and three pairs of eyes turn to me.

"Daddy!" Sophie says excitedly. "Ethan let us have chocolate birthday cake for breakfast!"

"Oh, did he?" I say, raising an eyebrow at Ethan.

Ethan squirms under my gaze. "I didn't want to wake you up, Dad. You were tired."

I smile at him, feeling a surge of love and pride for my eldest son. Not many nine-year-olds would be so considerate. "Thank you. I suppose cake for breakfast is okay just this once."

Ethan grins back. "I'll remember that on my birthday," he says cheekily.

I sigh and shake my head but I can't find it in me to be mad at him. "Right. Everyone go and get dressed, MayMay's going to be here soon to help us get ready for the party."

"You too, Daddy," Freddie says with a giggle, pointing at my pyjamas.

"Yes, me too, Fred. Come on."

A few hours later, we're all dressed in our best party outfits, have eaten something more substantial than chocolate cake and the car is fully packed with games and toys. Despite these small successes, we're still somehow running late.

My mom travels with us to the party and plans to pick up her car later that evening. She's quiet for the first part of the short drive but I can feel her eyes on me and I know she's watching me.

"What?" I say eventually, exasperated.

A smile creeps across my mom's lips. "Nothing."

"Mom. I know you're being all creepy and watching me and probably making some wrong assumption about something so just tell me now so that I can correct you and we can all go back to our lives as normal."

She glances into the back where the kids are taking it in turns to play Angry Birds on my iPhone. Then she turns back to me. "You're happy," she says simply.

"I'm always happy," I growl, a living, breathing oxymoron.

She laughs. "Oh, Edward, you do make me laugh." She's watching me again.

"Mom…" I start.

Finally, she comes out with it. "You spoke to your lovely wife last night, didn't you?"

I pretend to be paying very close attention to the road so that I don't have to look at her. My mother is the only member of my family who still reveres Bella almost as much as I do. She is the only one who has never doubted our relationship, even when my own faith has wobbled on occasion.

My silence seems to tell her more than any words could and she looks back out to the road smugly. "I knew it," she says quietly.

"I didn't answer," I hiss, not wanting to alert the children to the conversation.

"You don't need to; I'm your mother. How is she?"

I sigh. "She's fine." I'm not sure whether to say anything more. I'm not sure whether Bella's staying for good or if she's even going to show herself to anyone else. I don't know what her intentions are and I don't want the children getting more hurt and confused than they already are. So I just shrug and repeat myself. "She's fine."

"Good." Esme smiles sadly at me, sensing that I'm not going to elaborate, and that's the end of that.

It doesn't take us long to set up some games, especially after Rose and Emmett arrive early to help, and then the party's in full swing.

I recognise many of the kids that come as being in Sophie and Freddie's class at school and I'm glad that so many of their Pre-K friends are still with them. The parents are all friendly and chatty and they all stay, pouring plastic cups of juice and milk for their little darlings.

Alice turns up eventually and uses her 'organisational skills' to take charge of some of the party games. I often wonder why Alice didn't become a teacher because her leadership skills really are extraordinary. You could even call her bossy… and, quite often, I do.

I'm in the middle of getting Sophie a cup of water when she suddenly shrieks and abandons me to run to the door, her drink forgotten. I roll my eyes and look over to see what she's found so interesting. A glamorous, blonde lady I recognise from the school pick-up scene is coming in with a young boy by her side and a little girl runs in front of her to greet Sophie with a huge hug. I'm sure that they weren't invited so I go over to see what's going on.

The woman smiles at me as I approach. "Hi," she says, "you must be Sophie's dad. I really hoped we had the right place."

"Er… yep, I'm Edward." I hold my hand out to shake hers and give her a brief smile.

"It was such a good idea for you to have the kids draw their own invites, Charlotte simply loves hers. It's on the fridge at our house."

"Huh." I turn my gaze on my daughter who flushes bright red when she realises that she's been caught out inviting extra people to her party but I know that now isn't the time to tell her off and I don't want to embarrass this poor woman so I let it slide. "Thank you. I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name…?" I trail off and it's a tad awkward.

"Oh!" The woman laughs, showing off an impressive set of perfectly white teeth. "I'm Maria. This is Peter, my son. It is okay that I brought him, isn't it? Only I couldn't find a sitter for him at this late notice and my ex is just a nightmare with childcare." She waves her manicured hand dismissively.

"No, that's fine. My eldest is over there and my brother's daughters are a little older, too. Perhaps you'd like to all play together?" I ask, addressing the boy. He seems shy and is hiding a little behind his mom although he's clearly older than Charlotte, the twins and most of the other children here.

"Maybe…" Peter looks uncertain but after some coaxing from his mom he lopes away to make friends.

Maria turns back to me with a red-lipped smile. "This is a great party you've put on," she says, gesturing to the balloon-filled room and bouncy castle.

"Thanks," I say, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "I had help, of course."

"Of course," she agrees. "Is Sophie's mom here? I haven't met her yet! Perhaps she'd like to join the PTA?"

"Uh… no," I reply, unsure how to react to her flurry of questions. "She's… not around right now."

Maria's face falls in shock. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean… I mean… I didn't know…"

"It's fine. Really, don't worry."

"Well… Edward, was it?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps you could join the PTA? We could always do with more dads like you." She gives me a wink that I'm sure she didn't mean to seem so flirty.

"Um… maybe," I hedge because I have no intention of joining the PTA; goodness knows I have enough to do at home.

"I'm so glad that Charlotte's found such a firm friend already and Sophie seems like a lovely girl," Maria says and she sounds entirely genuine in her compliment. "You'll have to come over for a playdate some time. I know Charlotte would love to have Sophie round to play and then perhaps we could get to know each other a little better, too?"

I look into her eyes and they are a crystal clear blue, framed by thick, dark lashes. "Sure," I say without really thinking about it. "I'd like that."

Her lips pull up into a beaming smile and she opens her mouth to say something else but, just then, a movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye and I look over to see the door swinging open and Charlie Swan coming in. His eyes search the room for a moment and then stop when they land on me. He is as white as a sheet and I think I might know why.

"Could you excuse me for a second, Maria? I'm sorry but I really have to go and… uh… deal with something." I point over to the kitchen hatch and add, "Please help yourself to coffee and there's juice and milk for the kids."

"Um… sure," she says, a bit bewildered by my abrupt end to our conversation, but I'm already walking away.

"Hi, Charlie," I greet my father-in-law nervously when I reach his side.

His dark eyes flicker to my face and he observes me mutely. Then, his gaze sweeps the room, checking that the party will be alright without us for a second, before he nods his head to the side, the universal gesture of 'get your ass out in that hallway now'. Based solely on the fact that he looks as though he's seen a ghost, I think I know what this is going to be about.

As soon as we're in the privacy of the hallway, he turns to me. "You knew she was coming?" he demands gruffly.

"No!" I say, shaking my head.

"But you know now?" he asks, somewhat quieter.

"I…" I hesitate, hoping that we're talking about the same thing. "You mean Bella?"

"What the fuck else would I mean?" he hisses. I've never heard Chief Swan swear before.

"Uh… I saw her but… Well… she came. To the house. Last night. I didn't know. It was a bit of a… well, it was a shock."

Charlie heaves a big sigh and leans against the wall for support.

"Did she come to see you?"

He nods. "Just now. This morning. Christ," he mutters. "I don't know what to think, Edward."

"That makes two of us."

"She's my daughter and I love her but… what is she thinking?"

"What did she say?" I ask, curious to know whether Bella has shared more with her father than she did with me.

"Not a lot," he admits. "Did she say anything to you?"

"She wants to talk to me. She wanted to come in and see the kids." I pause and then add, "I didn't let her. She wouldn't promise me that she'd stay."

"Oh, she's staying alright," Charlie says with force. "I won't let her leave those children again." He takes a breath and visibly tries to calm himself down, the colour slowly coming back into his face. "You did the right thing, Edward. The kids must always come first."

"They do," I assure him. "At least… to me, they do."

He looks at me sadly, the weight of my implication hanging heavily between us in the hallway.

"I'm sure she has a good excuse," Charlie says eventually but his uncertain tone doesn't echo his sentiment.

I don't have a chance to respond because the door opens then and Alice pops her head out. "What are you guys doing out here?" she asks but doesn't wait for a response. "It's time for the piñata!"

I grin at my sister. "We'll be right there."

After she's gone back to the party, I look over at Charlie and am surprised to see him looking away at the floor. "Charlie?" I ask and when he looks at me, his eyes are rimmed in red.

"I'm just so damn angry at that girl," he says in explanation and his voice is gruff. We both know he's not talking about Alice interrupting our conversation.

"I know," I reply, because I do. I know exactly how he feels. Fury and forgiveness, hatred and love all at the same time. I reach out and pat him solidly on the back. "Come on, Chief Swan. Let's go back to the party. The kids come first, right?"

He nods and takes a deep breath. "The kids come first."

* * *

 **I am so sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter! Real life has been totally cruel these past two weeks so thank you for being so patient!**

 **Thank you again for all of your kind reviews, I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter as much as I did. I know this chapter was a bit uneventful after the drama of the last few but I am so excited about the next few chapters, it's going to be good! Let's just say that I'm not going to keep you guys guessing about Bella's past for much longer… ;)**

 **For those of you asking about length, I'm not planning on this being a super long story. Definitely not anywhere near as long as THWTLAL! At this stage, I anticipate around 20 chapters but we shall see – I sometimes get carried away.**

 **Also, I know I'm** _ **really**_ **late to the game with this comment but – how awesome was the Super Bowl last weekend?! My husband and I stay up until 4am to watch every year and it was so worth the watch this time! Sorry, I know that's totally irrelevant… but it was pretty awesome.**

 **Please let me know your thoughts! (Ideally about the chapter but I will also accept your comments on the Patriots' epic win…)**

' **Til next time,**

 **Steph xo**


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